Lost at Sea
by siriuslyhopeless
Summary: Complications ensue as Will, Elizabeth, Tia Dalma, Barbossa and the crew set off to find Jack. Will attemps to patch up the fraying relationship between him and Elizabeth, but it doesn't seem to be working. Willabeth -discontinued-
1. Troubled

A/N The first sentence of the story randomly appeared in my mind as I turned on the bathwater the other day. I raced to my laptop and wrote it down, becoming so absorbed that a barely noticed that the bath was still running. That is until my mother almost had a fit when seeing that the bath was centimetres from overflowing.

Anyway…now you know that this is a strange story apparently inspired by (while having nothing to do with) bathwater.

Please enjoy and don't forget to review…

PS: the Dreams are indicated by italics and this symbol - // - at the beginning and end.

x-x-x

Will glanced at Elizabeth, noting the gauntness of her cheeks and the dark half-circles under her eyes. Despite the anger he felt towards her and the animosity between them, he could help but feel concerned when she looked so tired and ill.

She must love Jack so, he thought sadly. Now and then he wondered whether she would have cared as much had it been him that had offered to stay aboard ship to tempt the Kraken.

Elizabeth became aware of his gaze and looked across the desk at him. He flushed and looked back to the map he was supposed to be studying. They were charting a course to Singapore. Barbossa had not yet revealed why he intended to go there, but no one else knew where they intended to go. So they had to trust in the man that only a few years ago had done his best to kill them.

Think of the devil, Barbossa stalked in to the cabin acting as if he owned the place, which come to think of it, he probably did. He sneered at the two pairs of eyes glaring at him and dismissed them from their task.

Will stood and stretched his stiff muscles, Elizabeth however gathered her hat and stalked out, completely ignoring Will's gaze in a manner which did not escape Barbossa.

"Marriage trouble, I see." He laughed and his dead looking blue eyes sparkled evilly.

Will cast him a withering glare and strode out on to the open deck. It was still raining and the sky was hidden by threatening clouds as far as the eye could see. About 10 yards away Elizabeth was vanishing below deck likely in search of her hammock. It was late and the sky had darkened quickly.

Gibbs was at the helm with water dripping down his tired face. Because there was such a small crew, everyone had long hours and at the moment Gibbs seemed to be bearing the brunt of it.

Tossing up between another mostly sleepless night below deck and a night under the clouded sky in the rain, Will chose the rain .

"I've come to relieve you, mate." He said to Gibbs with a small smile. Gibbs gave a exhausted nod of thanks and disappeared from the rain quickly, without even questioning Will's motive.

It was going to be a very long night, decided Will. He pulled his leather coat closer around him and wiped some of the rain from his face. A useless exercise since the droplets were replaced so quickly with the force of the downpour.

Minutes dragged by slowly until all of a sudden he realised that someone else was having trouble sleeping. Tia Dalma stood a little away with her back to him. Rain soaked her dress and dripped from her long dreadlocks but she appeared not to notice. Instead her attention was fixed on the rough waves and ominous clouds on the horizon.

"What troubles you, William Turner?" She asked quietly, without turning around.

Will jumped, he hadn't though that she'd noticed him watching her. But then she was always like that, working in mysterious ways.

"Is it an unfaithful woman?" She continued without waiting for a reply. She turned to him, her expression unfathomable in the half-light.

He shied away from her penetrating stare, preferring to focus on the smooth wet wood of the wheel beneath his fingertips.

"She loves you more than you might think." Tia Dalma said softly. She began making her way towards Will, who was still steadfastly ignoring her.

She came right up to him, standing so close that he could hear her breathing over the sound of the rain falling around them. Reaching for him, she tilted his face to her so that she would be able to look into his eyes. Will didn't bother to resist, but instead looked back at her letting the sorrow and anger of the last few weeks fill his eyes.

Their gazes held for a long moment before she took her hand away from his face and intertwined their hands together instead.

"If you stay true, Will Turner, love will find you. Go now and rest easy," She touched his forehead. "I will watch the sea in your stead." Will nodded feeling drowsiness wash over him in a gentle warm wave.

"Thank you." He murmured sleepily holding her close for a moment before stumbling tiredly in the direction of his hammock.

He thought he might have heard her laugh lightly, but it must have just been the wind.

x-x-x

Down below the ship tossed nauseatingly. Or so it seemed to Elizabeth who was curled up in her hammock. The rain beat down against the wet timber of the ship creating a lulling sound that was making her sleepier by the second.

Despite her drowsiness her head throbbed angrily, no doubt due to studying maps for hours. Her tired eyes fluttered shut and she barely registered Gibbs stumbling down the stairs. In seconds loud snores resounded around the room, only adding to the sound made by the rest of the sleeping pirates.

It was only a few more seconds before she too began to snore…

_//"Play for me?" said the gypsy girl to the boy with the fiddle. He only raised his dark eyebrows expectantly and smiled when she reluctantly dug out a small coin from the recesses of her gaudy gypsy dress. _

_Then he obediently began to play a rousing song in the middle of the street. The girl tossed her long dark hair around and started to dance, dragging others from the watching crowd to join in. Soon enough most of the street was dancing and the rum was flowing freely. _

_In a tavern nearby a young man cocked his head to one side and listened to the faint sounds of music and dancing._

"_D'you hear that?" He asked his companion. "That, my dear Hector is the sound of dancing. And what is an essential factor in dancing?"_

_Hector narrowed his young blue eyes, searching for the trick in the question._

"_Er…music?" He answered tentatively._

_The young man waved a dismissive hand,_

"_Other than that." He said leaning closer to Hector and cocking his head to the side once more. _

"_I don't know, how 'bout ye tell me, Jack." Replied Hector irately. _

"_There's no need to be impatient my friend, because I will tell you." Laughed Jack._

"_Then tell me!" cried Hector impatiently. _

"_The key ingredient in dancing is women." Announced Jack triumphantly. "And as I've said before; you need to get yourself a girl, so it seems that this is a great opportunity to find yourself a good time." _

_He stilled expectantly, waiting for Hector to catch up on his logic and agree whole-heartedly._

"_I suppose…"said Hector doubtfully._

_Jack sighed impatiently and forcefully dragged his friend towards the celebrations. _

_As they arrived Jack was immediately whirled away by a horde of flirting women, leaving Hector to stand alone feeling out of place amidst the celebrations. _

_He admired a laughing girl in gypsy-dress dance and was rather surprised when she caught his gaze and hauled him into the mass of dancing bodies._

"_Why are we dancing?" He asked her._

_She grinned, baring white teeth and told him that they were dancing because they could. _

_**The dreamscene changes…**_

_Hector turned to Jack with a frown of disappointment etched across his youthful features. _

"_She's_ _not coming, is she." He said tiredly._

_Jack said nothing but continued to watch the docks that were almost empty in the early morning. _

_Hector sighed and turned away, but even as he did a slight figure appeared, running towards them. _

_Jack grinned and shouted at the men aboard ship to ready themselves to leave. _

"_Look, mate" He called to Hector, who was walking away. "She's come."_

_Hector turned and saw her and as he did a great smile spread across his face._

"_Cerys," he whispered to her when she flung her browned arms around his neck. "you came."_

"_Did you think I wouldn't?" asked the gypsy girl, laughing lightly._

"_Never." He lied, looking over her shoulder at his Captain. But Jack just stood there with a small smile on his face. _

_**The dreamscene changes….**_

_Cerys stood in the middle of the cabin, turned away from Jack who was lounging in his chair a few steps away. _

"_Don't do this, Jack." She said with a trembling voice. "Don't lie to me again, I can't bear it."_

_Jack noted her slender back bowed with despair and frowned. _

"_What makes you think I'm lying to you, love?" He asked, standing up and walking over to where she stood._

_Cerys froze, all the words stilled in her throat at the feeling of his warm body pressed up against her back. _

"_So you were telling the truth when you said…when you said that…" She began after a slight pause._

"_When I told you I wanted you?" He inquired lightly; well aware of the effect he was having on her._

"_Yes…" She whispered._

"_Every word, love." He replied and with that he placed his rough hands on her slight waist and spun her around so that they were face to face. _

_Cerys ducked her head, feeling breathless at the look in his dark eyes and the spicy scent of him._

_He tilted her head back up and caught her lips with a kiss. _

_Unnoticed by the pair inside the cabin, the first mate stood just outside with his hand still poised to knock. Hector tore his disbelieving eyes away from the scene he could see through the door that was slightly ajar and felt a shiver of cold run down his back. _

_How dare he? Hector wondered, how dared Jack, his best friend, his captain betray him so thoughtlessly. And more importantly how dare Cerys, his lover, and his gypsy…_

_He loved her… or rather, had loved her. _

_Raging thoughts of rebellion and mutiny swirled inside his cold mind…//_

All of a sudden Elizabeth woke, cold sweat running down her face and the image of the young Barbossa's blue eyes burning with pain and sorrow and the desire for revenge burnt into her mind.

She shivered convulsively, her memory of the dream fading rapidly. Her head throbbed more that ever and she felt unusually hot, even though it was still raining outside. Her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and she panicked, not finding herself in her childhood bedroom but rather in a smelly noisy hold surrounded by unfamiliar men.

Shivers racked her slight frame and she fought back the urge to cry with panic and pain. She pressed ice-cold hands to her burning forehead and attempted to stand, swaying alarmingly.

The floor tossed beneath her and she retched, partly out of fear, partly out of nausea. Her breathing became quick and uneven as she searched for a familiar face. Then she spotted him, Will, her childhood sweetheart, lying in a swaying hammock. She stumbled towards him, sobbing and shivering. He didn't wake, so she sank to the floor, pressing her hot forehead to rough timber and praying for the nightmare to end.

x-x-x


	2. Fever Dream

Second Chapter - Fever-Dream 

A/N Thanks to: Shani8, NazgulQueen, quilhan, Flightstorm, enchantedsleeper and Starlight1534 who reviewed! So great was the response that I went around for the rest of the day in ridiculously high spirits and kept randomly breaking out in maniacal giggles (much to the consternation of my family).

So, here is the next chapter and lets hope it lives up to the first one. As you can see above, reviews are _very_ appreciated.

"_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend_

_Somewhere along in the bitterness_

_And I would have stayed up with you all night_

_Had I known how to save a life."_

The Fray 'How to save a life'

"William… _William_" A voice called from a long way away. Will woke slowly, feeling pleasantly sleepy. Tia Dalma reached down and shook him by the shoulders, still calling at him to wake.

He opened his eyes reluctantly and was immediately surprised by the urgency that he could see in Tia's black rimmed eyes.

"What is it?" He asked, feeling slightly more awake. His mind drew all sorts of terrible conclusions while she kept him in suspense. It could be the Kraken, or Davy Jones or Beckett or a vengeful god or a hurricane… the list continued in his mind as she forcefully dragged him from his blankets.

They emerged on deck, where the early morning sunlight was just beginning to evaporate the rain from last night. Tia Dalma strode quickly across the wet surface, looking unusually grave, a fact that didn't serve to make Will any calmer.

"Tell me what's happening." he appealed, any high spirits he might have had evaporating as quickly as the water on deck.

"I was out on watch when I heard her." She said, not looking at him but turning down the stairs towards the kitchen.

"Elizabeth?" He asked wildly, his spirits plummeting even further.

"She cried out, it's a wonder that you didn't wake." Tia Dalma turned past the kitchens and into a space he'd never seen before.

"Wait." Will grabbed her arm, his eyes flashing with anger and frustration. "Where are we and what's going on?" He demanded.

She stopped and turned to him with a strange expression on her face.

"This is the infirmary, and I think you should see for yourself." She replied darkly.

Will felt his insides shrivel with dread and turned to the door. He turned the handle and gently pushed the door open.

Inside was a small cot on which a figure was sprawled. To Will's immediate relief she didn't seem to be fatally injured and there wasn't any blood to be seen.

He stepped towards her and saw that she was flushed and shivering. His heart sank.

"Fever?" he asked quietly

Tia Dalma nodded.

"Don't get to close." She added, brushing a sympathetic hand over his arm.

Will ignored Tia and moved closer, as he did Elizabeth's eyes snapped open, staring straight into his own. She paused for a second, but then suddenly a wave a of recognition passed over her fever bright eyes.

She sat up and grabbed his hand. With slight shock Will realized that there was tears standing in her eyes.

Tia Dalma moved as if to intercept the contact, but froze as Elizabeth spoke.

"I know I said I wasn't sorry," She began, in tones hoarse with illness. "But I only realized how much I missed you after you'd gone."

Will frowned in confusion, but reached down a hand to brush her hair away from her hot face. She pressed her face to his hand and the tears fell, trickling down her gaunt cheeks. She was so fragile, so in need of protection, and so beautiful that it was like falling in love all over again.

"I missed you." She said, her too-bright brown eyes still full of tears. "But I knew you'd come back, Jack."

Will tore his hand away as if burnt and felt his heart break. She didn't appear to notice and was still watching him with love in her eyes, but now it was meaningless.

Someone moved in the doorway and he remembered that Tia Dalma was still there. He kept his gaze determinedly away from her, having no wish to see the pity in her eyes.

"'Tis only a fever-dream, Will, and the illness will pass, give or take a few days." Tia Dalma said.

Will didn't look at her because he couldn't tear his eyes from Elizabeth; whose eyelids were drooping shut. She had a perfect look of love and contentment on her peaceful face that was almost painful to see.

"Good." He replied dully, without conviction, to Tia's statement.

And with that he walked away, feeling decidedly lower with every step.

x-x-x

Elizabeth floated in the murky depths of a tangled fever. Fear and illness confused her senses and she lost track of where she was and whether she was asleep or awake. She had the impression of half remembered dreams of a gypsy and a pirate and a traitor, but her memory was fractured and uncertain.

One thing stood out from the chaos, an image of a young Barbossa standing outside the Captain's cabin, his blue eyes burning with cold fury. In her mind's eye for reasons she couldn't fathom, the face changed. Instead of Hector, Will stood there, his beautiful brown eyes frozen in an unfamiliar expression of anger and pain.

Elizabeth started from her dream, if it really was a dream, and woke. Her face was clammy and cold, but thankfully no longer hot with fever. In her mouth was the bitter taste of one of Tia Dalma's horrible potions. Potions that had probably saved her from an untimely death.

Steps sounded outside the room and she shut her eyes hurriedly, because she didn't feel up to talking quite yet. The person opened the door and stood in the doorway. To her surprise the person spoke.

"You came back." It was Tia Dalma who was speaking.

Elizabeth was about to open her eyes and admit to being conscious when she realized that the statement was directed at somebody else.

"What did you want me to do?" asked Will, he answered lightly, but it seemed to Elizabeth that there was an undercurrent to his words.

She wondered quietly if he knew that she was awake.

"You could do better." Replied Tia, her words uncharacteristically serious.

Will paused, Elizabeth wanted to see his facial expression but decided it wasn't worth missing the rest of the conversation.

"But I still love her." He said quietly and Elizabeth came to the uncomfortable awareness that they were talking about her.

"Even after all she's done?" asked Tia Dalma sharply.

Elizabeth felt a stab of guilt and fought the urge to squirm.

"Yes…" he said softly.

Her breath caught in her throat and she barely noticed as he left the room. She found herself feeling guilty for something that she'd never considered was her fault. Was she the reason their engagement had fallen apart? Sure she'd stopped talking to him, but it wasn't like he'd been any different. In fact she'd been almost certain that he didn't love her anymore…

Tia must have seen the struggle on Elizabeth's face, because she became aware that the girl in bed wasn't actually asleep.

"Are ye happy?" Tia Dalma asked dryly, her accent thickening with frustration.

Elizabeth sat up, blushing furiously at being caught eavesdropping.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…" She trailed off under Tia's sharp gaze.

It felt like hours but it wasn't long before Tia Dalma walked away. Elizabeth, who was still feeling like a small child being scolded, sighed in relief. It was a pity that the relationship between them had turned out like one between adult and child, because it had been years since Elizabeth had had a proper girl friend.

She would have liked to ask Tia about the strange dreams, but it seemed that she wasn't going to chat to Tia Dalma any time soon.

There was a faint cry from above that told her that land had been sighted, so she left her disturbing thoughts behind and made her way to the deck. This took longer than expected, as she was still weak from fever and her muscles seemed to have the consistency of jelly.

It was late afternoon and the sun was low in the sky, sending beautiful white-gold light sparkling across the clear water. The dim outline of a harbor was visible against the horizon, which made her wonder how long she'd been asleep. Before she'd become ill they had been about a week from Singapore, but she couldn't have slept that long.

Still feeling a little dizzy, she jammed her hat on her head and found Gibbs sitting on a coil of rope close by.

"How long did I sleep?" She asked him

He looked up and seemed surprised to see her.

"It's good to see you up and about, lass. How long have you been asleep? Well… I'd hazard a guess at about 4 days." He said, beaming.

Four days! Well this must be Singapore then, she thought a little angrily. She hated feeling weak and girlish. Though it was understandable to succumb to an illness in the bad weather that they'd been having, it appeared that no one else had been sick.

She attempted a smile that may have looked more like a grimace and wobbled away. It wasn't long before the dark smudge on the horizon became people and ships and houses and soon enough Barbossa was announcing a plan of action.

"I haven't planned to stay here long, so we'll be out of the harbor the day after tomorrow at the latest. Marty, Gibbs and Cotton you are in charge of acquiring supplies for a long journey……." Barbossa bossed them around for a while longer, assigning jobs to the crewmen and Elizabeth stopped paying attention.

It was evening now and a slight chill hung in the air. The docks were a fascinating bright affair and were now teeming with sailors, merchants, whores, tradesmen and civilians. Elizabeth was so lost in the colorful sights in the Harbor that she didn't even notice that Barbossa was talking to her until he coughed loudly.

"As I was saying, Miss Swann here, Master Turner and Tia Dalma shall accompany me on a business venture. That will be all." He finished, still smirking in her direction. The crew separated dutifully and quickly vanished from the ship, onto the docks and away into the town.

Elizabeth sighed and regarded her three companions. None of them were looking at her and they were talking amongst themselves. She wondered whether that there was anyone else in the world that she would hate more to accompany into town at this moment. They left almost without looking at her and she dragged behind.

Feeling impossibly lonely for someone who was surrounded by people.

x-x-x

With regard to that strange Will/Elizabeth interaction in there, DON'T WORRY she's not going insane! She was just feverish and having delusions/hallucinations…

Thanks for reading and it'd be good if you dropped me a review with your thoughts!


	3. The Colour of Blood

Third Chapter – Unnecessary Death

My little list of reviews has hit double figures! Thanks to all the lovely people that helped it get there.

I don't know if you'd consider this chapter "gory", but as you've probably noticed in the chapter title that someone's going to die! Do tell me if you consider it too explicit for the rating. I don't think it is, but…………..

So, a third chapter coming right up… P

x

Billy Hadley was going to have fun tonight, a new merchant ship had come into the harbor this evening and the crew had been sent off on errands or shore leave. Either way there was plenty of impressionable young lads running around with their pockets full of gold.

Just waiting to be robbed…

A grin twisted his scrawny features and he hurried down the lane way, ignoring groups but focusing on the single people. He caught sight of a young, thin, sickly-looking lad dashing after another group of three, perhaps for protection.

A predatory smirk flashed across his face; target spotted. He pretended to stumble and fell over the lad, clamping a hand over the target's mouth in the process. Luckily for him the lane way was nearly deserted except for the group of the three still walking along, unaware that one of their companions was being robbed.

The lad squealed and writhed under him while Billy dug out his long dagger from his jacket pocket. The lad stilled at the sight of the wicked knife, his too big amber eyes widening in fear.

"Your money?" demanded Billy, who was by this time really enjoying himself. The lad moved his arms as Billy lifted his weight from them and fumbled around his waist presumably for his money pouch.

Dreams of young whores and lots of rum filled Billy's greedy mind and distracted his attention from the boy.

Then he heard a noise that froze his heart. The sharp snick of a pistol being cocked.

"Get off me." Said the boy in a distinctly feminine voice.

Obediently, Billy stood and the 'boy' before him scrambled to his feet.

In his fear Billy noticed the strangest things. He could not understand how he ever could have taken the young woman before him to be a lad. Though all these thoughts were irrelevant he could see the slight curves that were nearly hidden by the rough sailor's clothes.

Everything was irrelevant except the barrel of the pistol, the steady hand and cold eyes above it. The girl hesitated for a moment and he seized his chance. He was in the process of lunging at her with his dagger when he stumbled.

He thought he had stumbled because in the rush of energy he hadn't heard the pistol shot. But then he saw the bright blood blooming like some obscene rose on his shirt. Ignoring the dull pain on his breastbone he looked back at the girl in disbelief, but her amber eyes were hard and yet innocently beautiful in the fading light.

His dying eyes made the colours swirl in dizzying patterns, but her face stood out as a pale golden blur, lit by the street lanterns. He sank to the cold ground still leaking out lifeblood onto the cobblestones. Faint cries from far away made him aware that someone had noticed that he was dying in a cold god-forsaken alleyway somewhere in Singapore.

With his eyesight fading he could barely see the figure of the girl, but he could hear her. He heard her quiet footsteps on the cobblestones and heard them slightly squelching through the widening pool of dark blood.

He heard her quick intake of breath that was almost a sob as she looked back towards his pathetic figure. That was the last thing before death swooped down like a falling raven's feather and blotted his consciousness from the world forever.

x-x-x

The sharp snap of a pistol-shot drew the authorities like honey draws flies. Will, who had whipped around when he heard the shot, saw the men swarming at the mouth of the alleyway. He looked back towards Elizabeth who was still standing over the prone figure, not noticing the men running right for her.

"Elizabeth, RUN." He yelled over the sound of the men's boots clattering over the cobblestones. She glanced up, saw the men, and caught on quickly. Soon enough the four of them were running full pelt down the narrow alley with the men hot on their heels.

Barbossa took the lead, as he seemed to know the streets of Singapore well. He ducked into an open doorway and hissed at the three behind him to follow.

Tia Dalma did so without the slightest question as to where he was leading him. She swept up her skirts and stepped over the threshold, quickly disappearing into the darkness of the house. Will and Elizabeth who weren't as trusting, both hesitated at the dark doorway.

Elizabeth heard the sound of running footsteps drawing nearer and grabbed Will's arm, her amber eyes widening with fear. She pulled him through the doorway and they continued though the house, following the swish of Tia's skirts on the rough floor.

The house was deserted and they came out through a back door into another alleyway. This street was narrow and lined with tall houses. The pace slowed, but all four were still wary.

Will couldn't help but notice that despite the run Elizabeth was deathly pale.

"What happened back there?' He asked her quietly, wondering whether he actually wanted to know the answer.

She refused to look at him, but instead fixed her gaze on the pistol she still held in her hand. Her knuckles were white around her tight grip on the cold metal. Slowly her hand reluctantly let go and it clattered loudly on the cobblestones.

Slightly startled, Will almost went to pick it up, but stopped as she continued walking.

The thunder of Elizabeth's heartbeat seemed so loud that she though that the whole world must've been able to hear it. Will still walked beside her, casting concerned glances her way. Glances that she pretended not to notice.

She though that if she saw love in his deep brown eyes she might just fall apart.

The image of the dying thief choking on his own blood was playing over and over again in her mind's eye. Wondering why the death of a single worthless man was affecting her so, she realized that she'd never directly killed a real man.

She'd fought undead skeletons and Davy Jones' beast men/creatures, but she'd never stood there, looked a man in the eye and shot him. Shot him dead, so that his heart uselessly pumped dark blood all over the filthy streets… But then there was Jack; she had killed him.

She stumbled and gagged, a sudden vision of Jack looking down at his blood-soaked chest in disbelief searing across her mind. Killed by her own hand as if she'd shot him herself.

Will grabbed her arm and pulled her up to keep her from falling to the ground. They ended up face to face and Elizabeth found herself caught in his eyes. He couldn't have trapped her there better, even if he'd shackled her.

His eyes were clouded, his face grim and she pale and sick looking, but both were snared by the heat and the closeness of the moment.

Without warning, the sound of men in pursuit echoed around the street and Barbossa turned back to them.

"This is no' the time for canoodling, the men are close behind." He yelled back at them, sounding exasperated.

Will glanced back and saw the men appear round the corner not far away. They began to run again, following Barbossa. Elizabeth lost her sense of direction as he led them down one street and down another. Eventually he came to a small house with a blue door, next to a smelly butcher. He knocked on the door, Jack the monkey chattering furiously on his shoulder.

The other three came to the door, Tia Dalma still clutching at her skirts. The door opened, revealing a hard-looking woman who looked to be in her mid-forties.

Elizabeth expected her to demand their names and want to know what they were doing on her doorstep, so she was surprised when the woman only ushered them into the house, her eyes widening with recognition.

No words were spoken while she hurried them up the wooden stairs into the upper levels of the house. The house was small but pretty and definitely not the house of a poor woman. The woman in question darted into one of the rooms and kicked at the bottom left corner of the wall. A wooden panel sprang open, revealing a small alcove.

Sharp black eyes looked from the four of them to the hole and back again. The woman sighed, realizing that it wouldn't fit in everyone and grabbed Elizabeth's arm.

"You two will fit in there. And remember to keep quiet if you value your heads attached to your shoulders." She said sharply, grabbing Will with her other hand and shoving the two into the small cupboard.

Elizabeth barely had time to blink before the woman pushed the panel shut and they were plunged into darkness.

Inside there was a small ledge that maybe one and half people could've sat on, but that was definitely too small for two people. So Elizabeth found herself sprawled in Will's lap and blushed, glad of the dark that hid her expression.

Downstairs a loud knock sounded and Elizabeth's breath quickened, partly from fear and partly from the way she could feel Will's chest rising and falling against her own.

Will wondered vaguely if it was entirely proper to be able to feel the swell of her breast through the thin cotton shirt she wore. This though vanished as quickly as smoke in high wind when she shifted in his lap again. He hoped that Tia Dalma got herself hidden, though he didn't worry so much about Barbossa. He knew that the wily old man could talk himself out of anything.

The sound of the men's footsteps pounded on the stairs and Elizabeth bent her head to Will's shoulder, to muffle the sound of her breathing. At least that's what she told herself, but the truth of it was that his shoulder was warm, strong and comforting against her cheek.

"Captain, I think you'll find that there is no one in this house but me." Called the woman outside in the hall, sounding darkly amused.

The man ignored her and continued to search through the rooms. The pair in the alcove froze, barely daring to breathe as the man passed perilously close to their hiding spot.

For Elizabeth the terrifying ordeal passed quickly in the shelter of Will's arms. As the man's footsteps faded away she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him.

Will could only see the slightest shadow of her face in the light that came in under the door, but he thought she looked slightly strange. She leaned closer and he felt a tingle of excitement trickle down his spine. Their mouths were bare inches apart, a fact that didn't escape his notice.

"Will, if you don't kiss me now, I'm afraid I shall have to kill you.' She said cheekily, and there was a something in her voice that he couldn't place.

He smiled, fully intending to do as she wished. But then he recognized it. The look in her eyes, the way her mouth was slightly parted as she leaned closer to him and the way her hand rested lightly on his arm. He recognized it as the way she'd been with Jack, on the deck of the Pearl, while the rest of them prepared to escape.

He jerked back, the memory coming very clear to his mind.

"What?" She asked, sounding more than a little confused.

"I'm sorry, I can't." He replied choking on memory and the way she'd looked just as beautiful back then.

She frowned in puzzlement and opened her mouth to speak…

Luckily for him, at that moment the wooden panel sprang open again and they both tumbled gracelessly on to the floor.

X

Hmmm, I don't like this chapter much. If you did please encourage me…

I hope you enjoyed and a review wouldn't go astray.


	4. Quicksilver Smile

Fourth Chapter – Quicksilver smile

Despite the less than enthusiastic response to the last chapter I am charging on, sword drawn, ready to combat the evil and perilous world of fanfiction. THIS CHAPTER IS OFFICIALLY DEDICATED TO QUILHAN and MANY, MANY thanks to quilhan, because without her, this chapter probably wouldn't be here. Anyway it's a bit weird and confusing (PM me if you're completely lost!) I know a lot of you are going to hate it, but review anyway and make me happy, ok?

Oh, and Happy Holidays!

_+Only skim the surface, the deep waters are dangerous._

_I see you construct a wall of words, but that won't keep the monster out._

_You're the one I see when I close my eyes._

_I know my name is branded on your heart+_

The dark-haired old woman glared disdainfully at the pair on the floor and gestured quickly for them to follow her. Tia Dalma seemed to materialize in the middle of the corridor, but it was more likely that she'd just come forth from a convenient linen cupboard. Barbossa also appeared from another alcove. They followed the mysterious woman, all looking shaken by the ordeal. Will could almost feel Elizabeth bristling with indignation beside him, he doubted a man had ever turned her down. For some reason that thought made him smile. He chanced a glance at her and saw that he was correct, resentment and frustration lined her perfect tanned face.

The woman was pulling a motley array of mugs out of her cupboards by the time the four of them emerged into the kitchen after her. Elizabeth took her chance to study the woman while her back was turned. Not by any stretch of the imagination was she a young woman, this was obvious with the amount of grey that was threaded through her close-cropped black curls. She also walked with a limp. But there was something about her, something that triggered a spark of recognition in Elizabeth's mind.

"Do I know you?" asked Elizabeth, sitting down in a chair near the kitchen fire.

"I don't know you." Said the woman, turning around. Her weather-beaten face was smooth. Was it just Elizabeth's imagination or did her dark eyes flick towards Barbossa?

Barbossa was leaning against the doorframe, looking uncommonly flustered.

"Er…Cer – " He began, he was cut off as the woman dropped the cup in her hand. It smashed on the floor, making a loud sound through the quiet kitchen.

"It's Catlyn, actually, and I know why you've come." She said, not looking at him, but looking down at the pretty porcelain cup that was in pieces on the floor.

"I always knew you had it. D'you have it here?" He asked eagerly, straightening and looking considerably more comfortable.

Elizabeth looked around at the room, wondering if any of the others were as confused as she was. Will was frowning at the pair and was definitely lost, but Tia Dalma was as calm as ever and even had a small smile on her face. Catlyn shot Barbossa a malicious smile.

"I don't have it." She said, not looking concerned at all.

"Who does?" replied Barbossa looking positively aghast.

"I gave it to Bootstrap." She answered smugly. She turned away from him and filled the kettle with water.

"Bill Turner?" Barbossa cried in consternation, while Elizabeth's heart gave a queer little jump at the name. "But he's dead. Sunk to the bottom of Davy Jones' Locker, carried down by a cannon tied to his bootstraps…" Barbossa whispered, horrified at this unexpected turn of events. Catlyn looked slightly stunned by that relavation and there was a hint of what could have been pity or guilt or sadness in her deep eyes.

"No, he's not." Said Will and Elizabeth in unison. Tia Dalma smiled as the two looked at each other in surprise.

"He's not dead. He's part of Davy Jones' crew and set to serve an eternity of service." Continued Will, looking away from Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked back to the fire where Catlyn was settling the kettle over the flames.

"So it seems we have a need to find Davy Jones again." Said Tia Dalma, who'd been quiet for a surprising amount of time. A slow smile curled around her blackened teeth as the saw the group watching her.

x-x

They weren't given a bed for the night, but instead decided to set out while the night was still young. Catlyn was accompanying them for her own reasons, reasons that she hadn't bothered to explain to anyone else. It was raining again as they emerged into the dark streets. None of the group spoke, no one having anything to say. Catlyn limped alongside Elizabeth, clad in comfortable men's clothes not unlike Elizabeth's.

Eventually they came to the docks and Elizabeth was surprised to feel relief at seeing the familiar cream-white sails of their stolen merchant ship, the _Lady Dragonfly_. It kind of felt like home when she climbed aboard and walked across the creaking timbers to see the sun beginning to rise against a pale pink sky. She vaguely wondered whether they'd got what they'd came for and wondered what was the item that Catlyn had possessed and then given to Will's father. A yawn stretched her mouth and she decided to worry about it later. Instead of setting off for her hammock as she normally would have done, she headed for the infirmary intending to sleep in the proper cot rather than the swaying hammock. As she went down there she saw Will emerging from the kitchen with a bottle of what looked suspiciously like rum in hand.

"Are you alright?" He asked catching her arm as she attempted to brush past him.

She looked at him and saw the concern darkening his brown eyes. Frustrated, she yanked her arm out of his grip. She hated being the helpless maiden, but at the moment it seemed that she was only a damsel in distress to Will. She didn't say anything, only raised a significant eyebrow at the bottle in his hand. He looked at the bottle as if only just realizing it was there and blushed. Elizabeth felt her heart soften a little, he always looked adorable when he was embarrassed. She didn't let that show on her face, but instead cast a contemptuous look at him and swept off haughtily. As if she was still the Governor's daughter and he the Blacksmith's apprentice.

As if they weren't both outlaws and pirates.

Collapsing on the cot, she let a tear slip from under her closed eyes. Why did everything have to go so terribly wrong? Upset though she was, it wasn't long before she sank into sleep…

_//The gypsy girl felt a tear slip down her face as she remembered watching Jack fade away into the distance, marooned on a forsaken island. Angrily she brushed it away and continued to pack her things into a bag. Then she came upon a small black bag that Jack had told her to keep from Barbossa. Wondering what was inside, she up-ended it onto her cot. A breathtaking ruby rolled out and nestled in her bedclothes, sparkling innocently in the faint candlelight. She gasped with awe and picked it up, her brown fingertips caressing it's smooth surface. Where did Jack get this and why was she to hide it from Barbossa, she questioned, amazed at its beauty. _

"_Cerys?" came a voice from just outside the cabin. She panicked, recognizing Hector's voice and stuffed the ruby it to the first place she could think of; down her shirt. She also sat on the items she had packed into the bag, spreading her skirts to cover them. She knew that Hector would have a fit if he knew that she intended to leave. _

"_Yes?" she answered breathlessly, and he came into the cabin. _

"_I was just wondering if you've seen a small black bag anywhere? I've lost something, that's all." He asked, and Cerys felt a chill slip down her spine._

"_No, I…I haven't" She stammered, hoping he wouldn't see through the lie._

_He must have taken her distress for grief and his face softened._

"_I still love you." He said gently._

_She looked away from him, not trusting her eyes to keep secret the burning hate she felt towards him. _

_The dreamscene changes…_

_It was pitch-black night outside as the gypsy girl prepared to escape. She'd packed her bag and packed supplies into the long boat and was attempting to lower it down. _

_It was far too heavy for her thin frame and she slid on the wet deck. It almost pulled her over the side when someone grabbed the rope and held it fast. She gasped in horror, convinced she was about to be caught and betrayed._

_The figure didn't speak and she could barely make out his features in the dark night. He looked somewhat familiar and a spark of recognition kindled in her mind._

"_Bill…Bootstrap?" She asked._

"_Aye." The figure said heavily, coming into the circle of light cast by the lantern._

"_Oh, thank the lord" She sighed in relief. Then a sudden thought struck her." You won't tell Hector will you?"_

_Bill saw how vulnerable she looked in the lantern light and couldn't have denied her anything._

"'_Course not." He said gruffly. " So, you are leaving then." _

_She smiled faintly and looked out into the open ocean. _

"_I can't stay." She whispered. _

_Silently he helped her lower the long boat down into the dark ness. _

_Cerys, felt the surprisingly heavy burden of the black bag inside her shirt. It was as if it was burning a hole through her pocket. The beginnings of an idea stirred in her mind. _

"_Wait, Bootstrap," She called and he turned back to her. "Will you keep something for me?" She asked and he nodded. She withdrew the black bag reluctantly but convinced herself that Hector would never suspect Bootstrap of having it. He held the heavy bag lightly in his hand and looked up at her though puzzled brown eyes. _

"_What is it?" He asked._

"_Nothing much." She lied, smiling tightly. "Just whatever you do, don't let Barbossa have it."_

"_Why?" He said, his young face innocent and naïve._

"_Because Jack didn't want him to." She replied, wondering vaguely if she was doing the right thing. _

_She ignored her misgivings and threw the rope ladder over the side of the ship. He was still standing there idly playing with the bag in his hands when footsteps rang out loudly in the silence of the ship. The faint light of another lantern bobbed its way towards them._

"_Go," She hissed at him. "Otherwise they'll know you helped me."_

_He hesitated, looking unwilling to leave a fair maiden in danger. _

"_I'll be fine." She assured him, flashing a quicksilver smile and pushing him lightly back into the darkness. She waited until the sound of his footsteps had faded away and looked back at the figure carrying the lantern._

"_Cerys?" It was Hector, she was sure of it and it couldn't have been any worse. He called her name again and the bitter hurt in his voice was almost too much to bear. Almost._

_She swung a leg over the wooden railing and tried to feel for the first rung of the rope ladder. A feeling of intense terror ripped through her as her foot felt through empty space. Then she made the mistake of looking down and froze. Her head swam dizzily and she clung with all her strength to the wooden railing. Hector came close enough to see her in the circle of light cast by his lantern and a terrible look of fury overcame his features. _

"_No." He growled and started towards her, intent on forcefully pulling her back to his side. The girl felt a wild feeling of recklessness emerge from somewhere and squashed down her fear. She climbed back onto the deck, relishing the firm wood under her feet. _

"_What are you going to do?" She asked mockingly. "Locking me up won't make a difference. I don't love you and removing the man I did love hasn't changed that." She ignored the growing fury on Barbossa's face and continued heedlessly. "You're a worthless, horrid, loathsome man, Hector, and I don't know why I ever loved you." _

_Drunk on recklessness and power she pushed him too far. The loud crack of a pistol shot cut off her tirade. _

_She staggered backward, looking with incredulity at the gaping hole in her thigh that was streaming blood. The man still holding the smoking pistol looked almost as horrified and only watched transfixed as the force of the shot carried her back over the rail and into the depths of the dark ocean. He watched the gypsy girl swim to the long boat and collapse into it, trying very hard to justify what he'd done.//_

x

Warm sunshine and a soft breeze filtered through the open windows. The offices of the East India Trading Company were busy as usual, but today Cutler Beckett was relaxing in his chair. His hand rested lightly on the ever-beating heart to reassure himself that it was still there. He sipped from a teacup and sighed comfortably. Behind him a nameless old painter dabbed in a couple of new islands on the map of the world. It was almost finished, he thought, not only the map but also the plan that he had executed so effortlessly. There was only a few… minor irritations to clear up. Elizabeth Swann for one. His thoughts lingered on the beautiful, spirited girl he had met so briefly. It was a pity she had to die, but she was an convicted criminal after all. Weatherby Swann would surely understand.

"Mr Mercer," He called to the enigmatic man that loomed outside in the corridor. "My scheme is almost complete. Call a carriage, I have a need to visit the governor's mansion."

The mansion, as seen from the window of a carriage, was a total mess. Just like its Master, Weatherby Swann.

There was no footmen in sight to open the door but Cutler Beckett entered anyway. To his surprise a murmur of conversation reached his ears, it appeared that the old man had a guest. Beckett's men cleared a path through the music stands, wedding decorations, seating and empty platters that must have been prepared for a wedding and reception. There was no doubt in his mind as whose wedding it was.

His men introduced him into the sitting room casually as if it wasn't he that intruded into the Governor's home. He should have known that it would be the ex-commodore visiting, thought Beckett, wondering not for the first time where the man's loyalties lay.

"What a pleasant surprise." He said, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Just the two men I wanted to see."

The men nodded warily and waited for him to announce the reason for his presence. Lord Beckett strode around the small sitting room, making the men increasingly uncomfortable.

"I am setting off upon a great voyage that both of you will be required to attend. Mr Norrington as an employee of the East India Trading Company and Mr Swann as a criminal convicted of attempting and mostly succeeding to free a woman convicted of crimes against the King. Mr Mercer will make sure you don't forget to be on my ship the _Enterprise. _Tomorrow at 11 sharp." He smiled, taking careful note of their facial expressions. Swann looked duly horrified at the thought of being prisoner aboard ship, but Norrington's face was blank and expressionless.

A smart man that knows the danger of being caught in my business, thought Beckett, with the slightest hint of respect for the man. He left the men to flounder in the tangled politics and intrigue of the plans of the East India Trading Company and emerged into the sunshine with a light heart and high spirits.

The sea was nearly his.

x-x-x

Norrington watched the old man walk around the room, frowning a little at the broken figure of a once powerful man. Weatherby Swann's hands fluttered anxiously over the gold-rimmed porcelain cups, making sure that the last remnant of his daughter was still intact.

Norrington had seen men like this before, going slowly mad with inaction and despair. He scrubbed a hand over his pleasantly clean face and sighed. Swann picked up a small bouquet of wilting flowers and turned back to the ex-commodore.

"What does he want from me?" He asked quietly, referring to Lord Beckett and his plan.

"I don't know." Lied Norrington, while his mind screamed leverage. It was so obvious that Beckett would and could use Weatherby Swann to make Elizabeth do anything.

Swann knew he was lying and it showed in his eyes. He turned away again, back to the window, still holding his daughter's wedding bouquet in one hand.

"There is always hope." Said Norrington, as much to himself as to the man at the window.

He wondered to whom he was loyal in this situation. Governor Swann trusted him and Lord Beckett did not. And what of Elizabeth, whom he may have loved once. Would he save her given the chance?

Maybe he should be only loyal to himself. That would make life so much simpler.

x-x-x

Will hadn't slept for days and it showed in his tired face. After Elizabeth had disregarded him early in the morning when they got back, he'd sat up and looked at the bottle of rum in his hand. Not daring to drink a single drop. He'd ventured into the captain's cabin hoping to puzzle out what was going on. But, 'Captain' Barbossa wouldn't let him sit, preferring to watch him struggle to stand, swaying with tiredness.

"What was it you wanted to ask me, Master Turner?" asked the Captain, leaning back in his chair, his face shadowed and mysterious in the dim light of the cabin.

"What is it my father has that you seek, Barbossa?" Asked Will, leaning heavily on the desk. "And where exactly are we going at the moment?"

"At the moment we are headed towards Port Royal, so we can wrestle the heart out of the hands of Beckett the gutless weevil." He chuckled quietly to himself and sipped from a bottle on the desk. "Then we shall take the heart and 'negotiate' with Davy Jones for your father and possibly even the return of the Pearl from the depths of the ocean."

Will opened his mouth to ask about the 'item' his father apparently had and its use, but Barbossa held up a hand and spoke.

"Don't be impatient, boy. I was coming to that. You'd be better to speak to Tia Dalma 'bout the ruby." He said.

"The ruby?" repeated Will, still swaying.

Any shred of patience that Barbossa might have had vanished in a instance.

"Get yourself out of my cabin, boy. Go get some sleep and don't come back until you're coherent and can stand up straight." He yelled, feeling tempted to throw the bottle in his hand at the young man. He didn't. Mostly because he wanted to drink it.

Will reluctantly left and squinted outside in the sunlight. He sank down against the railing, because he didn't have the energy to visit Tia Dalma or go below and find his hammock.

Catlyn was sitting nearby, whittling at a small piece of wood and attempting to ignore the two idiots behind her. Pintel and Ragetti were happily baiting the newest member of the crew, calling her an old grandmother and a hag and other mindlessly cruel names. Well, Pintel was calling her names while Ragetti echoed him and giggled madly.

Catlyn tried to stop the rising fury building up inside her but the annoying sound of Ragetti's mad giggles was too much.

"William!" She called to him. He jerked awake from his half-doze and looked up from where he begun to fell quite comfortable. "Throw me that oar, please." He looked around and spotted a loose oar on the deck beside him. He picked it up and threw it to her, a task that took all his strength. She caught it easily but continued to stare at him.

"Are you alright?" She asked, inadvertently echoing the words he'd spoken to Elizabeth last night. He just glared, but it seemed words enough to her and she shrugged and turned to the tormentors. Pintel and Ragetti looked suddenly worried at the ease at which she held the blunt wooden oar in her hands. Ragetti fumbled at his belt for his sword but she was too fast. With a smooth sweeping motion she swung the oar around and smacked him on the head. He fell to the ground with a dull thud.

"Oi!" said Pintel, quivering indignantly, "You can't do that."

"Not scared of an old granny are you?" She replied sweetly.

He pulled out his sword and caught her first blow. Will watched them through half-closed eyes. She wasn't strong and her thin arms shook with every blow she blocked. But she fought like she was dancing, agile and waving her arms around smoothly. She wasn't very good in the grand scheme of things, but she was artful enough to beat Pintel. True enough she struck him between the legs, but sword fighting was all about knowing your enemy's weak spots, wasn't it.

"Jack taught you." He said to her as she returned to whittling. The knife slipped and a bright slash of crimson appeared across her thumb.

"No, Hector taught me." She said lightly, not looking up from her thumb.

"Barbossa?" He mumbled sleepily. "Well, Jack taught Barbossa then."

"Maybe." She conceded. "How can you tell?"

He smiled drowsily.

"You wave your arms too much."

She remembered learning to fight with a sword. It was one of the first things she learned upon the Black Pearl…

_//The sun beat down on her young arms. Her bare shoulders gleamed with sweat. Hector swung the sword, darting it up towards her throat. She hesitated and that was the only instant he needed. The sword flashed bright across her vision, forcing her backwards. She tripped over her own feet and landed heavily on her backside, Hector's sword at her throat. _

_He sighed exasperatedly and helped her up._

"_Your footwork's awful, lass." He said. He turned to their other companion.. Jack was staring out at the horizon, not paying attention at all. "Can ye help her Jack?" he asked._

_The Captain turned around and frowned at her. _

"_Ye can dance can't ye?" He said. _

_She nodded._

"_Well it's much the same." He took her sword and tossed it to Hector, who caught it without a word. He was very used to humoring his Captain. _

_Jack took her hands, looking down at her feet so he didn't notice how red she flushed at the simple gesture. _

"_If I step here, then you step… there" He said, nudging her into place. He came closer and put his hand on her waist. They circled and she caught on quickly. She'd always been good at dancing…_

_She could feel his callused palm on her waist and it made her heart jump queerly. He looked up at her and smiled easily. She returned it because his smiles were infectious, but it didn't ease the strange feeling inside. In fact it made it quite worse._

"_Catlyn?" Someone was calling but it didn't matter, it was just her and Jack.…//_

"Catlyn." Will called again. Catlyn started from her daydream and looked at him blankly.

"Catlyn?" He asked and she still looked decidedly blank. Then a thought occurred to him, "That's not your name, is it?" He said.

She jumped and realised he was talking to her. Then she went red.

"No, no it's not." She whispered blushing like the fool she was.

He grinned agreeably at her discomfort.

"What is your name then?" said a voice from behind them.

Elizabeth had emerged from the infirmary and was untangling her hair from the rag that it had been bound in. She looked at 'Catlyn' with a hint of confusion in her face.

"Elizabeth, I wish to apologize for before…" Will began, suddenly far more alert than he had been with the older woman. Elizabeth didn't even look at him and strode purposely away between 'Catlyn' and him. Will was too busy staring hopelessly at Elizabeth to notice a sudden look of wild fury pass across 'Catlyn's' face.

She picked up the oar lying on the ground beside her and knocked Elizabeth to the ground with a heavy blow to the stomach. Elizabeth fell to the ground wheezing indignantly. Will was on his feet instantly, all tiredness forgotten. 'Catlyn' watched the sword in his hand warily. She raised the oar defiantly but still looked distinctly opposed to fighting.

"What was that for?" He asked, walking around Elizabeth and standing between the women.

"If she scorns love now, she'll end up alone and not know how she got there." 'Catlyn's' weather-beaten face was twisted with a mix of concern and frustration. Her sharp black eye's bored into his own. He stepped back dizzily and gasped as he was suddenly surrounded by 'Catlyns'. Five identical women glared back at him, their movements merging. The sky around him darkened and an eerie fog made the figures around him even more menacing. He heard Elizabeth cry out in terror and turned back to her, only to find that another Catlyn blocked the way. He slashed his sword and it parted the woman as though there was nothing there. Then a sword hilt crashed into his head from behind and he fell, his sword clattering on the deck.

"I'm getting too old for this." The woman moaned, then there was just one Catlyn and she was swaying, her face haggard with exhaustion. The fog cleared and the sky lightened again. She sat heavily on the deck, dragging her hands through her black-grey hair.

"Are you mauling my crew, Cerys?" asked Barbossa from the doorway to his cabin.

"Cerys?" Elizabeth gasped behind him. " I know you are. You're the girl … Barbossa's…." She stopped and looked between the two. "I had a dream."

She looked away from the two and back to her lap. Will couldn't help but watch her closely as she ran her hands through her loose golden-brown curls.

"That's why you hit me, because you think what I'm doing is the same as what you did." She didn't wait for an answer, "Well, it's not. The situation is very different. I kissed him to save us. You kissed him because you wanted to."

"Are you saying you didn't want to kiss him?" asked Cerys angrily. "I thought I loved him as much as you do now. And if you don't love him then why did your engagement fall apart?" Elizabeth flinched as Cerys shot the words at her like knives.

Will came to the conclusion that they were talking about Jack. He should have known that by her connection with Barbossa, Catl – Cerys would have been connected to Jack. He looked at Elizabeth, she looked as if she was holding back tears.

"Do you love him?" he asked, very surprised at the words that just popped out of his mouth. Elizabeth gaped at him for just a moment too long. He looked away because the answer was clear in her eyes.

"No, wait. Will, I don't love him. Wait, it isn't like that. Will!" Elizabeth scrambled to her feet ready to go after him as he disappeared below, but someone caught her arm. Barbossa released her after she turned to him.

"Leave him, he'll learn to cope without you." He said, looking almost angry with her. Cerys had the identical expression as she stood with the aid of the oar and limped off.

"Did you ever learn to live without her?" Elizabeth asked sharply, nodding her head towards Cerys. Barbossa frowned and his blue eyes darkened, but he didn't answer. They all left eventually. Even Pintel stopped sniffling around on the ground and scuttled off.

Elizabeth felt the beginnings of shame stir in her mind. She'd never meant to hurt Will, but surely pretending to love him when she didn't was even worse. But maybe she did love him, or maybe she loved Jack. Why couldn't she just love neither…or even both? Aching sadness and mindless fury had dragged her heart and her spirits down to the very bottom… They all thought it was so simple, when it was quite the contrary … It was very complicated.

x-x

Well I don't really have much to say here. People think I talk too much anyway. But maybe if I tell you to review you will…or maybe you won't and I'm just being a pointless idiot anyway. So I hope you enjoyed it and look forward to the next instalment. There I said something (AGAIN) and I'm very sorry because it's kinda annoying I know…


	5. A Sailor's Worst Nightmare

Fifth Chapter – A Sailor's Worst Nightmare. 

Okay, first of all, everyone needs to calm down, take deep breaths and stop panicking. Elizabeth, (the reviewer, not the character!) I know it's looking a bit unlikely for our favourite couple to get back together, but I promise they will. I just don't think Elizabeth should get off the hook that easy. She made some very nasty mistakes and she's going to pay!

All my stuff about ships ect. is mostly made up and probably defies all laws of gravity, nature and proper ship combat…Feel free to correct me, but unless it's really important I'm not going to change anything.

And the longest wait on an update I can blame on our beach-house (It has no Internet connection) So, the beach is very nice and hope this chapter is too.

I've finished my usual rant and this is the part where I shamelessly beg for reviews…

Please, please, please!

x

Seductive curls of heady sweet smoke vanished up into the daylight as Elizabeth pushed the door open. She slipped into the all-consuming darkness, not daring to make the slightest noise. Things hung from the ceiling, unimaginable things, disgusting things, weird things in bottles. A smouldering pipe lay on the table, sending out the sickeningly sweet smoke that was making Elizabeth feel drowsy. The table was cluttered with knickknacks and gewgaws and old jewels and jars and gaudy-bright gold pieces. Elizabeth reached down to touch a crumpled piece of parchment with a broken seal and dark rimmed eyes snapped open in the shadows.

"What you be doing in my cabin, girlie?" drawled a voice heavy with sleep.

"Tia Dalma!" Elizabeth exclaimed, her heart thudding madly against her chest. "I didn't see you there."

Tia Dalma stood and lit the lantern hanging from the ceiling so she could see the girl better. Elizabeth had visible tear tracks running down her patchy sunburnt cheeks, so wordlessly Tia bundled the girl into a chair and began to make another cup of tea. She'd known that it was all going to end in tears. Jack Sparrow wasn't a nasty man, just a _difficult _one and Tia had seen him come between marriages before. That man had no limits, which wasn't perhaps a good thing.

She'd have given the girl her blessing with Jack, not that it would have held anything together, but for the boy. There was something about him… he deserved to marry the girl he wanted and would have if Beckett hadn't come between them. Shaking off her thoughts she grabbed a dusty brown bottle from the table and shook it. The answering magical tinkle of liquid made her smile fondly. She poured a healthy dose of rum from the bottle into the tea and passed it to Elizabeth.

"She got ye didn't she." Tia said suddenly, looking a bit frustrated, "Show me the hurt." Then she pulled Elizabeth from her chair and started to undo the girl's tunic. Elizabeth spat the tea and rum mixture all over herself and quietly attempted to protest. Needless to say the protests died out pretty quickly under Tia's firm stare. Gradually Tia revealed the growing black and blue bruise over Elizabeth's ribs. She sighed loudly.

"Cerys dinna mean teh really hurt yeh." She vanished back into the shadows of her cabin muttering to herself loudly.

"She hit me with an oar." contradicted Elizabeth, albeit a little quietly. She didn't intend to invoke Tia's wrath. "How is that not meaning to hurt me…"After a few minutes Tia returned, carrying a small wooden box and a darkish jar of ointment.

"You'll mend." Tia said softly after the sharp-smelling ointment was applied. A knock sounded, cutting off Elizabeth's curt reply and Will came into the cabin. For a moment Elizabeth wondered why he was staring at her and then she realised that her shirt and tunic was still only half on. It was rolled up past her stomach, over her ribs, almost completely revealing her… She wrenched the shirt down, tearing a couple of seams and did up her tunic with shaking fingers.

"Er, Barbossa sent me to ask you about the ruby…?" Will said to Tia, with his gaze pulled firmly away from Elizabeth's figure.

"Ah. The Ruby." Said Tia a grin pulling at her blackened mouth. "The ruby is how you do be getting Jack back from de gods. You will barter the ruby, cause as the law goes: In exchange for one soul from the dead lands a blood sacrifice must be paid to the Lords of the Dead. The ruby will be our blood sacrifice."

"How is this ruby a blood sacrifice?" asked Elizabeth, becoming drawn into the story.

Tia grinned almost flirtatiously at Will, who was slowly falling asleep at the table and turned back to Elizabeth.

"In a long time past," She started; the meagre lantern light made her eyes deep and shadowed. "that ruby was born of metal and fire and blood. Many coveted that ruby, for it was a fair thing then and still is now. Eventually that desire for the jewel won over honour and peace and there was a great war among men. Much innocent blood was split over that ruby and so it will appease the great Lords of the Dead. But there is one thing you also must know." She leaned closer to the pair of them across the table. "With the ruby come a terrible curse of bad luck to the bearer. Any person who bears the ruby shall have bad luck while they carry the dreaded object."

"So the ruby will save Jack." Elizabeth mused half to herself.

"It was cursed and Cerys gave it to my father?" asked Will sounding more awake and slightly indignant.

"I didn't know it was bad luck." growled a voice from the doorway. Cerys strode into the crowded cabin. "Though I might have guessed. Considering that when Jack had it he was viscously mutinied upon." Elizabeth noticed that she failed to mention that she had probably been the cause of that mutiny. "…and though I only had it for a short while I was shot and only survived by accident."

"And when my father had it he was sunk to the bottom of the ocean unable to die and then press-ganged into Davy Jones crew." Will added broodingly.

"Aye." She nodded, with that same expression of pity and guilt and sadness that she had whenever anyone spoke of Bootstrap. Absentmindedly she took the smoking wooden pipe from the table. Looking up she realised they were all watching her movement.

"Continue by all means." She mumbled around the pipe, waving vaguely in Tia's direction with one hand. Elizabeth watched her even after Tia began to speak again, noting the way her hands shook as she lit the pipe from a book of matches.

"Barbossa shot you." Elizabeth said bluntly, wondering if the woman would even bother to answer the statement. She'd noticed over the last day or so that the woman was a very secretive and private person. Cerys didn't look up but Elizabeth saw the way she tensed. Then she nodded almost imperceptibly. Their conversation didn't get much further than that, so Elizabeth turned back to Tia and Will, suddenly noticing how silent they were. It seemed that Will had slowly progressed from sitting upright from being half-sprawled across the table. He was blissfully unconscious and snoring softly.

Tia put out a slim hand and stroked his hair fondly. Elizabeth's stomach twisted and she felt a sudden inexplicable urge to wrench out her sword and run her through then and there. Dark, knowing eyes turned to her and she blushed, absolutely sure that the mysterious woman could see every one of her bad thoughts.

"Now you know how he feels." Tia laughed, looking back down at Will and twisting one of his dark curls around her finger.

"What?" asked Elizabeth, shaking her head and wonder what in hell's name Tia was talking about.

"Never mind." Tia snapped and then sighed. "You want another rum?" Elizabeth acquiesced a little reluctantly, but felt secretly glad when Tia shoved the mug into her hand. They drifted off into a companionable, though slightly uncomfortable silence. Elizabeth briefly contemplated leaving but decided that she couldn't face the crew after her little fight with Cerys back on deck. Cerys was also completely unconscious, with her dark hair obscuring her eyes and her smoking pipe hanging out of the corner of her mouth.

"Tia?" she heard Will murmur, his voice husky with drowsiness. Elizabeth's heart gave an odd jumpy, achy feeling in her chest "Did I fall asleep?" Tia nodded, but she wasn't looking at him, she was watching Elizabeth who was watching Cerys. Will glanced at Cerys and frowned.

"What was that thing Cerys did, Tia?" Elizabeth heard Will ask. She felt as if an invisible person was pulling an invisible corset, tighter and tighter around her chest. Her throat felt constricted and she felt choked and breathless.

"She's a gypsy lass, yes." Tia began, settling back into her chair "A race doomed to wander the world forever, never taking a place for their home. In exchange for that misfortune the merciful gods granted the race strange powers. The Power to create illusions. She cannot physically change anything, nor multiply herself, she can simply mess with your mind until it seems to you that she's multiplied herself or changed something."

Elizabeth summoned every reserve of her courage and looked over at Will. She noted the he was watching the beautiful native woman tell her tale. He was entranced and the way he was leaning towards the other woman made Elizabeth's chest constrict even further.

"But there is always a weakness to any person or power." Tia Dalma continued, her dark eyes positively glowing with her story. "And hers do be iron. She cannot touch iron without pain and it stops the flow of her power." She reached across the table and picked up the wooden box beside Elizabeth's elbow. Inside was a collection of jewellery, gaudy, cheap jewellery. Nothing like the jewellery that Elizabeth wore… used to wear. Nevertheless she took the beaten iron bangle Tia offered as protection from the gypsy's illusions. Her hands shook as she slipped the dull-coloured cold metal over her too thin wrists. She tried not to notice how ridiculously intimate Tia and Will looked. Tia Dalma was slipping the iron band over his wrist and her fingers lingered over the brown skin of his hand. Elizabeth grabbed her tin mug and grasped it with shaky fingers; it and the rum inside seemed to anchor her to normality. That or the rum was gradually wearing away all her feeling. But the invisible corset had vanished. She cast her gaze around the cabin keen to look anywhere except the couple on the other side of the table. Her every breath was making sharp pains in her chest. Was this how Will felt when he saw me with Jack? She wondered, was this how James Norrington felt when I threw away his proposal in favour of Will? Was this what love was supposed to feel like? Eventually she realised that Cerys had woken and was watching her pain-stricken face carefully. Elizabeth raised her rum, swallowed the lot down and wishing that there was more to be had.

Gibbs clattered down the dark stairs loudly, breaking the taut silence in the cabin.

"Ship – ." He wheezed, breathless from the stairs. "Right on our tail."

Elizabeth inhaled rum in her haste to ask a million questions and Will stood, all sleepiness forgotten.

"Colours?" Tia inquired sharply, sweeping her skirts up and striding imperiously towards the slightly terrified man.

"Er…flying a British Flag, er, ma'am, miss, milady…er" Stuttered Gibbs, backing away from an irate Tia Dalma who was in full fight and not stopping for anyone. "Barbossa – er, Captain Barbossa," He corrected after Tia's eyebrow twitched slightly. "Had an idea, er, that it might be the East India Trading Company, erm, Miss..."

"Beckett?" breathed Cerys, from her dark corner of the cabin.

"You know Beckett?" asked Elizabeth, turning to Cerys, whose brown eyes were inscrutable as ever.

"We've met." Said Cerys shortly and strode after Tia, who was already at the top of the wooden stairs. Will followed her and Gibbs followed him, leaving Elizabeth behind, as usual. By the time she'd slowly made her way up to the deck, the other ship was close enough that you could make out little men scuttling around on deck in their smart little uniforms. The crew was crowded around Captain Barbossa, who was issuing order after order at the top of his voice. As the pirates ran below deck loading the cannons and preparing to fight, Elizabeth approached the Cerys. Cerys was leaning out so far over the rail she was almost vertical.

"It's huge." Elizabeth said with awe in her voice as they both gazed out at the giant ship. Row after row of cannons rolled out and the EITC men, in their smart blue uniforms, could be seen leering out from every gunport.

"Shit, Shit, Shit…" Cerys swore fiercely, she heaved herself back over the rail and marched over to Barbossa, her curls flying in the soft breeze.

"We can't fight that." She snapped at him. "This ship is made for running away, not facing off a huge ship like that." Barbossa didn't look at her, so she continued, waving her hands around in distress. "Have you seen the cannons on that thing! It'll pulverise us and then the men will board our ship in a swarm of death and slit our throats mercilessly!" She finished dramatically.

"It's too close … we _have to_ fight. Or we'll be slaughtered anyway." Barbossa replied, his voice completely void of emotion. Cerys shook her head and Elizabeth's heart sank.

"Is that all?" she whispered to Cerys as the woman stalked away. "You're giving up?"

"What else do you want me to do?" Cerys hissed, clenching the rail with both hands.

"You're the only one that can convince him!" Elizabeth begged. "You know we can't win this, and I certainly haven't come this far to die."

"I just hope he knows what he's doing. Oh, god… OK" She sighed and half-ran back to the captain, who was looking rather short-tempered. Elizabeth trailed after her anxiously.

"We can outrun this thing! This ship is made for its fleetness in the water. I know running away doesn't appeal to you but it's got us out of trouble before." Cerys pleaded, her eyes bright with fear. "Think about it, it's Beckett on that ship, not an honourable Naval man. It's Beckett and I don't want to meet him again." She finished quietly.

Jack the monkey scuttled down Barbossa's arm, across Cerys' black and grey curls and down onto her shoulder. Barbossa glared at the monkey, but seemed convinced by this final mutiny.

"Get those men off the cannons. Hoist the mainsail and prepare to flee!" He bellowed, turning away from the two, but not before he plucked his monkey from her shoulder. Cerys didn't even notice because she was too busy grinning at Elizabeth with triumph.

"I told you that you could convince him!" Elizabeth grinned playfully and she was too happy to mind when Cerys stuck her tongue out and walked back towards where Tia was standing. After a moment Elizabeth followed, remembering something that she'd wanted to ask the strange old gypsy.

"Why are you so afraid of Beckett?" she inquired.

"Don't be so nosy, 'lisabth. Tia Dalma chided as Cerys turned away. Elizabeth refrained from sticking her tongue out and again got the feeling that Tia Dalma could see her thoughts when the woman flashed her a cheeky black smile. Eventually Cerys stuck out her hand. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, wondering what that had to do with anything. Cerys sighed and pulled up her sleeve, revealing a pirate brand. The 'P' of the brand was blackened and surrounded by dark, scarred skin.

"I was jailed in the offices of the East India Trading Company, set to hang for piracy. When he branded me –." Cerys started reluctantly.

"Why?" Elizabeth interrupted, still staring, horrified at the inside of Cerys' wrist.

"Because he's a horrible, sadistic bastard!" Cerys snapped, and then taking a deep breath regained control and spoke. "…But while I was there in the cell it got infected. I was so feverish and ill that I couldn't recognise anyone and I couldn't differentiate the dreams and the reality. He refused to get a doctor, saying that I was going to die on the gallows anyway." She shivered slightly, her dark brown eyes haunted by memory. "Well, Jack and Hector eventually got themselves out and rescued me. A witch woman healed me and I was probably lucky not to lose my arm. Incidentally, I found out later that Jack took something from Beckett's personal possessions. A ruby of considerable value. So Beckett has hunted us ever since." With that she pulled her sleeve down and meandered off slowly.

"Oh." Elizabeth stared at Tia, wishing perhaps that she'd never asked the question.

"Shut yer mouth, unless you want to catch a fly.' Tia said, looking like she was trying to keep from laughing. Elizabeth's jaw shut with a click.

x

Time slipped through their fingers like running water and hours later when dark had claimed the sky and everyone had lost some of the tension, Will glanced back at the ship on the distant horizon…. And did a complete comical double take…

"He's catching up!" He yelled down from where he was precariously perched up in the rigging. He watched silently as the tension appeared in everyone below, the crew scuttled around, pulling at ropes and manning cannons. Gibbs stood at the barrels of weapons and handed everyone pistols and swords. Barbossa stiffened and squinted out at the dark horizon.

"Great plan." He said dryly to Cerys, who was hanging over the rail again and watching the full moon ripple across the dark water.

"It was a good plan, until now." Elizabeth retorted defensively, coming up behind him and holding a sword out to Cerys. She remembered a woman who'd once said that to her, on her first sea battle.

"Iron?" Cerys raised her eyebrows at the sword offered.

"I forgot." Said Elizabeth musingly. She fingered the iron band around her wrist self-consciously.

"Protection?" Cerys asked flatly. She sighed and stomped off, looking offended.

Barbossa sniggered quietly and Elizabeth glared witheringly at him.

"Good one – ." Barbossa started, but came to a sudden halt as the ship stopped suddenly. Elizabeth tripped over her own feet, collapsed into Barbossa's arms and landed on deck heavily. Shouts, curses and groans told them that everyone else had suffered the same fate. A series of thuds and a very explicit curse also told them that Cerys had fallen down the stairs.

"What the hell was that?" She snapped, emerging with her hand over her bloodied nose.

"We've run aground." Moaned Ragetti, with his working eye fixed on the ship approaching on the horizon.

"It must be a reef." Gibbs swore and peered over the rail. There was a nasty scratching noise as the sharp and hard surface scraped along the hull. Bubbles of air escaped from the ship and fizzed in the water. Gibbs' eyes widened in alarm and he pushed past Cerys and down the stairs. Faintly he heard Will gasp in horror behind him, but the black water bubbling up through the floor took most of his attention. He stood there and gaped while Cerys half-heartedly tried to bucket out some of the water. But it was a last cause. Abandoning the gypsy in her attempt to stop the water, he clambered back up the stairs. He'd just emerged, when a golden blur grabbed his arm, and wondered anxiously if it was the Kraken.

"We've run aground, Miss Swann." He answered and left her open mouthed in horror. She'd grown up on the sea and knew the dangers of being stuck. It was a sailor's worst nightmare, left to starve and die slowly. To get so desperate for water that you drink from the sea and the combination of seawater and strong Caribbean sun fries your brains like scrambled eggs. He shivered superstitiously and stepped up to the captain and his monkey.

"We're taking on water, Cap'n. If I were you I'd take my chances with Beckett, rather than this. Surely nothing could be worse that dying at sea."

"Mr Gibbs, I think you'll find that there are a lot of things worse that dying at sea and if we give ourselves over to Beckett I would guarantee that you'll find out a few"

Elizabeth clattered down the stairs into the dark and with a splash was suddenly knee deep in water. The fear she'd suppressed from a couple of hours ago rose up with a vengeance, swamping her heart and sending shivers down her spine. A chain of people bustled past her, carrying fresh water and provisions. It appeared that everyone was abandoning ship into the long boats. How could this have happened? A couple of hours ago they were cruising along fine! She was hustled haphazardly into the chain of people and was suddenly burdened with a barrel of rum. She staggered up the stairs and dropped the barrel so hard that it split, sending the spicy golden rum gushing across the deck.

Barbossa grabbed her arm and was about to berate her for the blatant waste of provisions when she beat him to it.

"How could this have happened?" She exploded, feeling tears come to her eyes and hating herself for it. "Don't you have maps to prevent this from happening." Barbossa opened his mouth to defend himself but stopped and seemed fixated on the horizon. "Wha – ." she started, turning around, what she saw stopped all her protests. They were dead in the water and Beckett was approaching fast, cannons loaded. That ugly black and white blotch of his ship on the horizon was much closer.

"I don't have time for this." Growled Barbossa and thrust her away from him and into the arms of the nearest person. "Take her away!"

Will was suddenly quite surprised to find he had an armful of sobbing Elizabeth Swann instead of the barrel he had been expecting. Completely at a loss as to what to do, he relinquished his hold on her, afraid she might offended or something. But then he found that she was clinging to him harder than he was actually attached to her.

X

"It's the Lady Dragonfly, milord." The young man bowed stiffly and marched back to his post. Lord Cutler Beckett straightened his waistcoat again and turned to his companion.

"Are you sure that it's the ship they've taken?" If he was anyone other than the man that unofficially ran the East India Trading Company, it might have been said that there was a trace of anxiousness in his voice. As it was, Cutler Beckett was never nervous.

Though his master had asked the question at least three times since the ship had been sighted, Mr Mercer showed the utmost respect and patience.

"Yes, milord. That is the ship that your eyes and ears report was stolen from a port near Tortuga by Elizabeth Swann, William Turner, Hector Barbossa and other nameless fugitives from justice." He ran his long fingers down the sharp blade of his dagger and was rewarded by a thin line of red. A very scary smile spread across his withered features.

Beckett grimaced at the lowborn behaviour and looked back at the horizon, allowing a little bit of hope to sneak over his features.

A few very long moment's later another young man approached nervously.

"We're within range, sir."

"Hold your fire." Beckett snarled, marching over to the edge of his ship to get a better look. "What's going on?"

"They appear to be having a spot of trouble, sir, perhaps they hit that reef."

"The reef that my informed and up-to-date maps guided us around?"

"Yes, that reef, sir."

Beckett laughed quietly, "Bring me closer, I think some negotiation is in order."


	6. Captured

Sixth Chapter – Captured.

It's a bit short and I'm sorry, but I didn't get much of a response for the last chapter, so I figure I'm only pleasing myself at this stage. Anyway at some point you'll see Elizabeth's thoughts in italics, so don't get confused if there's some random thoughts hanging around, cause their hers.

Davy Jones and his crew of miscreants appear and since I don't know any names I just made them up. There's Mr. Seaweed and Mr. Hair Like Seaweed (imaginative I know!) If you care to enlighten me as to some of the names I'd be delighted… ::hint,hint::

_(Revised: Thanks to NazgulQueen and Jennie for the names, I think Clanker and Greenbeard were the ones I was thinking of.) _

So enjoy and don't forget to drop me a review. (I live for them!)

x

The figure of Beckett became clear as the _Enterprise_ advanced menacingly. He stood casually on deck, a clear and well-dressed figure, right up to his perfect powdered wig.

"Captain Barbossa, what a pleasant surprise. I see you're having a little trouble" The wind buffeted his words. Playfully whirling them around, eventually releasing them and letting them ring out across the silent_ Lady Dragonfly_

Angrily drying her eyes, Elizabeth slipped away from Will and down the stairs. The water lapped flirtatiously at her leather-clad ankles. She knew what Beckett wanted and it wasn't a pleasant chat. Steeling herself she splashed down into the darkness.

"I could put you out of your misery if you like." In the dark of below she could imagine the smile that would spread over his face at those words. "Hand over the fugitives on board and I will not harm you nor your ship." Splashing through the waist deep water, Elizabeth tensed. Barbossa muttered something that she couldn't hear and Beckett replied "Elizabeth Swann and William Turner."

The only light came from a single lantern that was only inches above the water line. It flickered eerily, sending hideous shadows darting across the timber walls. What could she bargain their freedom with? Opening the door to the infirmary she gazed around with despair at her waterlogged nest. She had virtually nothing. For once there was no hope of escape, no loophole, not even a weakness that people like Jack Sparrow always found. At the thought of him, her heart sank even lower. They were never going to rescue him, he would rot in afterlife for eternity because Cutler Beckett was all powerful and… She sighed and willed herself not to cry again. She spent far too much time weeping these days, it was nauseating.

A single bottle floated past her leg. It was getting colder, and the water was rising. Grabbing her hat and coat she opened the door to the infirmary again. An unexpected amount of water gushed in, making the water rise to chest height. Feeling suddenly panicky, she emerged into the dark corridor and braved herself to face the catastrophe above. But first she had to find her way out…

x

Barbossa appeared to be considering the offer, Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann. Were they expendable? Would he dare betray them to Beckett? Absentmindedly he stroked Jack's soft fur. He glanced at the boy who stood beside him. No, no person deserved that fate, even if they were as annoyingly noble and heroic as William Turner was. At least Jack had been dishonest…

Well, vaguely dishonest most of the time…

Well, maybe some of the time…

Besides, Tia would be angry if he betrayed her little toy boy. And he didn't want to see that…

"I'm afraid I can't accept your offer, but surely there's something else you could be persuaded to accept in place of the two miscreants…" He said, his passive face not revealing the 'madness' inside.

"No." It was spoken softly but had an undercurrent that promised retribution. An unfamiliar look of childish frustration overcame Beckett's features and he turned away, issuing orders to the crew.

"All able seamen on deck … on this day we board this vessel … recover the fugitives aboard …approximately 20 years old, thin, yellow hair … tall dark man, a little older than the girl… bring them to me… along with any possessions on their person …and the prisoner … I want him to see this…"

"Oh, dear." Gibbs looked pale. Actually his face was the unattractive colour of old porridge. The sheer amount of men leaping to obey in their smart red coats, carrying their shiny new weapons had that effect on some people.

"Into the long boats if you value your life!" Someone bellowed and there was a mass stampede as the crew grabbed their meagre personal possessions and made for the boats. Barbossa grabbed Will's arm.

"Turner, control the crew, keep them from panicking."

"Wait!" Will cried, wildly wrenching his arm from Barbossa. "Elizabeth! She's still down there…" He turned back against the stampede, ready to tear apart the ship just to make sure she was safe.

"Captain's orders." Barbossa's voice was firm and so was his grip on the back of Will's jacket.

"I'll go." Cerys bobbed up from the crowd. "It's alright." Will watched her anxiously as she ducked away. He reluctantly allowed Barbossa to tow him over to the longboats.

x

She had no intention of dying here, none at all. The statement sounded strong in her head, but came out with a slight tremble. Which way was out? Something stirred past her leg and she shivered convulsively. Probably just a bit of loose rope…hopefully.

"Elizabeth?" a voice rang out in silence, sounding almost as apprehensive as her own.

"Yes! Yes! Over here."

"Will sent me to look for you." Cerys looked unruffled, but her eyes were shifting uneasily around the dark. "We've got to get out to the long boats."

"I got a bit lost." Elizabeth replied as they made their way through the water. Around another corner and another… And then. …light. Glorious, wonderful, fear-banishing light!

Elizabeth was ready to leap up the stairs and burst out in to the chaos, but Cerys held her arm and listened to the sharp click of footsteps above.

"Can you here them?" she asked

"What?"

"Beckett's men." Elizabeth noticed that whenever Cerys spoke of Beckett she unconsciously stroked her left wrist. "Storming the ship, looting, plundering." Her lips tightened angrily. "They're no better than pirates, except they have the permission of the King."

They crept up the stairs quietly, Elizabeth holding her sword with a death grip. Despite the creeping and the secrecy as they flopped up into the sunlight like a couple of beached whales, they caught the eyes of some men.

"Oi, it's that girl!" One yelled, raising his shiny, sharp sword and grabbing Elizabeth by the hair. Quite predictably Elizabeth screamed and he dropped her with surprise. Another stepped forward, ready to hoist her over his shoulder, but stopped and stared at something beyond her. There was the swishing sound of someone moving in heavy skirts and Elizabeth turned around only to see herself, clad in a heavy white dress, running away in the opposite direction to that of the long boats.

"Get her!" A herd of men in red coats followed the apparition, leaving Cerys giggling with hysterical relief.

"Was that you?" Elizabeth asked, her heart still racing twice its normal speed.

"Of course." Cerys recovered herself. "Let's move quickly, before they realised they've been tricked."

"Never ever do that again!" Elizabeth snapped indignantly. "I thought I was going mad."

Sighing, Cerys stood briskly and moved off. Elizabeth trailing wetly behind her, complaining loudly to cover up her fear.

The ship felt deserted. Beckett's men must be below, braving the rising water to snatch at the valuable cargo that didn't actually exist. Greedy, foolish men.

Except for the occasional sighting of a lone man in a red coat, Cerys and Elizabeth made it to the far rail unscathed. Water was just beginning to gurgle up through the timbers and pool around their feet.

"You first." Elizabeth forcibly pushed Cerys over the railing and towards the rope-ladder and the waiting boats. The two boats were still being organised, loudly, by some of the crew and there seemed to be a debate between Will and Gibbs about how much rum was needed.

"I'm scared of heights…" Cerys whispered, looking unusually young, with her eyes wide and frightened.

"Is there anything you aren't scared of?"

Cerys hissed angrily in reply and made two slow steps down the ladder before someone else made their appearance…

With a giant splash, the _Flying Dutchman_ burst to the surface. Amid frothing seas, with water streaming from every gunport, the _Dutchman _was an impressive sight.

"Oh dear." Gibbs found himself repeating himself and wondered if anything else could possibly go wrong.

"Oh dear." Elizabeth said faintly, unknowingly echoing Gibbs.

"Oh dear." Beckett unconsciously agreed on deck of the Enterprise.

The beast-like crewmen emerged out of every nook and cranny on the sinking _Lady Dragonfly_. Covered in seaweed and brandishing sharp and vicious pieces of metal, the crewmen would have inspired fear in the heart of a brave man. Luckily, Elizabeth Swann wasn't a brave man. As it was she was daunted.

"Go!" Elizabeth pushed at Cerys frantically. "Go, Go!"

A thing that was more seaweed then man caught sight of her near the rail. He was carrying a slightly rusted sword that Elizabeth probably couldn't have picked up with two hands it was so large. It looked sharp enough to slice right through you, yet blunt enough to make your ending long and painful. Not that Elizabeth studied it in any detail. She wasn't scared, not at all. And she definitely wasn't in denial.

Greenbeard advanced quickly, grinning evilly and breaking into a lumbering run.

30 feet…

"Hurry up." She screamed. _Just don't look over your shoulder, Elizabeth…_

20 feet…

_Oh, God._

Other crewmen, disappointed at the lack of people on the ship, saw Greenbeard and joined in the race.

"Mary, Mother of God!" Gibbs whispered faintly "Jump, Miss Swann, Jump!"

She put one foot on the rail and heaved herself up, ignoring Cerys who was still clinging to the rope ladder and going down slowly.

10 feet…

_Just don't look down. It'll be okay._

Bracing herself with one hand on the rail, she took a deep breath and… didn't jump. Ignoring the little voice in her head she looked down. It was a long way… The sparkling blue water and the boats where miniscule from her height.

5 feet…

_It's okay, close your eyes, don't look over your shoulder at the nasty man with the big sword…_

Taking another deep breath to calm her racing heart, she edged a toe over the rail, closed her eyes and…

_I don't want to do this…_

2 feet…

_I really don't want to do this…_

Seaweed grabbed her around the waist and heaved her back over the side, ignoring her wildly waving arms and terrified screams.

"Let me go!"

x

The crew watched in horror as Elizabeth and Cerys were hauled away by the creatures of the sea.

"We have to go back. "

Barbossa nodded as he watched Cerys being hauled back up on to the sinking ship.

Will began to climb, hoping he wouldn't be too late.

x

"Let me go!" Elizabeth screamed again, trying to wrench out her sword and get out of the man's arms at the same time.

"Let her go!" The struggling pair stilled for a second, to stare at Elizabeth's unlikely rescuer. A weedy little man in a red coat raised his trembling sword and whimpered as Seaweed put Elizabeth down and drew his large, rusty sword. Elizabeth tried to sneak away quietly, but was caught my a man with hair like seaweed.

"Where you going, missy?" Clanker grinned and hoisted her over his shoulder. Elizabeth beat her fists against his back and screamed, annoyed at her own lack of physical strength. She couldn't see where they were going but she knew he would be taking her back to the Dutchman. To Davy Jones and away from Cerys and Tia Dalma and Will… and any hope of rescue. She was so lost in her anger and misery that she barely noticed when Clanker got a shiny new sword to the gut.

She fell heavily to the floor, hitting her head hard. Holding his slimy new sword another man, this time one in a red coat hauled her to her feet and she was shepherded forward towards the rail and towards the _Enterprise_. Clanker made interesting choking noises as he watched his insides spill out before his eyes. Though she'd despised him a second ago, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. No one should have to end life that way.

x

"Elizabeth!" Will yelled frantically. Where had she gone? The deck swarmed with Davy Jones's men and Beckett's men all fighting, but there was no sight of Elizabeth in her brown coat. The water was rising, swirling icily around his ankles. He had to get her off this ship and soon.

"Mr Turner." Will turned to find a familiar barnacled face grinning at him. "The Captain will be glad to know you'll be coming back to stay." He smiled evilly and swung his sword in a arc, narrowly avoiding Will's face and distracting him from another man advancing behind.

"Will! Behind you!" Elizabeth screamed as a man in a red coat dragged her past. She was sopping wet and had blood running down her forehead into her eyes. Tearing his eyes from her, Will turned around only to see the man raise a convenient piece of driftwood and bring it smashing down.

The man picked up the unconscious figure by the collar as Elizabeth screamed helplessly.

"Back to the Dutchman." He grinned at his companion.

"Aye."

"Will!" Elizabeth screamed again. Mentally willing him to be alright and wake up and save her and … help her get away from this mess.

"Shut up!" The man in the red coat snarled viciously, hitting her across the face. Bright white spots danced before her eyes and she slumped in the man's arms. Starbursts of pain exploded in front of her vision and red-hot blood ran down her face in sticky streams.

"Help, Elizabeth." Cerys's words sounded a long way away as the woman struggled against two of the Dutchman's men. Life had that remote dreamlike sense to it, but felt more like a nightmare. Elizabeth gladly sank into the darkness that rose like a black tide and sent the water covered deck rushing up to meet her face.


	7. Gypsy Magic and Recurring Illness

Seventh Chapter – Gypsy Magic and Recurring Illness

Sorry about my little tantrum last chapter. I feel like such an idiot now. This story is now over 20,000 words long! That's an awful lot of words. And 30 reviews! That's an awful lot of reviews. (Well, for me anyway, I never expected to get any reviews for this story!) I feel like we've come to a very special place, don't you? Dyed my hair purple, but since my hair's so dark brown it turned out kind of auburn. My mother actually doesn't mind, which was a bit disappointing!

Many thanks to these people for reviewing last chapter:

golfgoddess93

jennie

NazgulQueen

quilhan

BadLilBirdies

Princess Amberly

&

williz

You people make me HAPPY. I _LOVE _YOU ALL!

(And jennie, I have taken your advice to heart. Don't worry, I'm not all ripped to shreds. You'll have to try harder than that!)

Wow, I seem to have acquired a tradition of long author's notes. Does anyone even read these anyway? I sure don't. Okay, Okay, I know what you're thinking: Shut up, Jay, and get on with the chapter…

x

_The gypsy girl was older this time. No longer a girl, no longer a happy, immature, crazy laughing girl. She stood awkwardly at the door of the hut, a pale yellow snake sliding over her shoulder and onto the floor. _

"_Why should I help him?" The choked and trembling tones looked strange coming from the proud and beautiful face. Because she was still beautiful, the faint lines around her eyes and mouth barely visible in the candlelight. "He tried to kill me and almost succeeded."_

" _He didn't try to kill you. He tried to hurt you because you lied and betrayed him. You hurt him." The pretty native woman brushed imaginary dust off her dress and started pacing around the small hut. "Besides, you still love him." She stopped and turned to face the gypsy, her head cocked to one side, her eyes piercing and bright. _

"_I don't know – ." The proud woman choked on her tears and hid her face in her hands. "I do, maybe. I don't know why – Oh…" She began to cry in earnest, her shoulders shaking, and her face in her hands. _

"_Aye, he probly doesn't deserve it." The native woman laughed faintly and guided the distraught gypsy to a chair. For a while the only sound was the sobs from the woman at the table, the crickets chirping outside and the rustle of the dark woman's skirts as she paced around the hut. Then the sobbing woman slammed her fists down on the table and took a deep breath. _

"_He's dead, what does it matter anyway?" Her voice was tight, her fists clenched and her eyes staring sightlessly at the wooden table. _

"_Death is not always an end." The strange woman stood facing the window, her back to the woman in the chair. _

"_You can bring him back?!"_

_The woman smiled and curled a lock of her hair around her finger._

"_I can bring him back."_

x

Elizabeth stirred, ignoring the fierce ache throughout her body. Any movement sent lances of agony shooting through her head. The world was dark and fuzzy. Not pleasantly fuzzy, the kind of fuzzy that left a bad taste in your mouth and muscles with the consistency of cotton-wool. Green eyes peered at her. Anxious green eyes. They looked slightly familiar, but the words spoken were too far away and sounded gibberish to Elizabeth's ears. A thought skittered across her aching mind and she tried to catch it. Something about a dream, a woman, a man that died. And under that thought was another thought, a fear. Someone, someone important in trouble. Struggling she attempted to remember, but it was as if her brain was too fuzzy to concentrate… Then she was floating, floating away on a sea of darkness, filled with dreams and memories and … fears.

x

_The bed was comfortable, warm and pleasantly away from the wild storm that lashed the tossing ship outside. Elizabeth woke and stretched lazily, cuddling up to the warm presence beside her … the warm presence beside her … in the same bed. She jumped, her heart beginning that familiar fearful thunder. Someone's hand was flung across her bare stomach, a nice hand, tanned and callused. Two rings, bright and gaudy, sparkled innocently in the light of a lantern hanging from the ceiling. Something sparked within her, recognition. It couldn't be… She followed the arm to the bare back of the man sprawled in bed beside her. Ignoring the twinge of something that could have been desire in another circumstance, she wondered… What had she done? She couldn't have, she wouldn't have… He was naked, she was naked, and they were both in the same bed. The unspeakable lingered in her mind as she sat up, tugging the rough cotton sheet up to cover her body. _

_Familiar hair, tied back with the red bandana, surely no one else had that hair. But he was dead. She'd killed him, hadn't she? Black rimmed eyes, tight shut in sleep… It was him …_

"_Jack?" _

_His lids fluttered and the hand that had been flung across her lap moved up her arm. Stunned in to stillness and silence, Elizabeth let it happen, let his hand gently tug her back down towards him. Her lips parted and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. He opened his eyes slowly and just watched her, a slight smile spreading across his face. She let herself be pulled down, caught and captivated by his gaze. Then a terrifyingly loud boom of thunder rang out and broke the spell. _

_She jerked back as if he'd hit her. Then she remembered her fiancé and it was like another slap to the face._

"_Will…" She whispered, her face full of anguish. I wouldn't have kissed him again, surely. I wouldn't have betrayed you a second time. The words lay unspoken in her mind._

"_What?" The man under her inquired._

"_Get off me!" She snapped suddenly, sitting up and shoving him off the bed. He fell with a yelp and hit the ground with a loud thud. Fury pulsed through her veins like a drug, tainting her perceptions. It felt addictive, though. It felt like power…_

"_Cerys, what in hell's name is going on?" Came his voice from the floor. _

"_What?" Elizabeth asked, her fury briefly forgotten as she gazed down at the man on the floor in puzzlement. "What did you just call me?"_

"_I called you by your bloody name." Jack said, not attempting to get up off the floor and sounding a little peeved. She shook her head. _

"_I need to get out of here." Wrapping the sheet around her, shivering with cold, she wrenched the door open. The gust of wind and rain that followed chilled her to her bones. And what she saw in the puddle of water pooling on the floor chilled her even further. The face reflected back at her though beautiful, was not her own. _

_The dark brown eyes in the puddle widened as Elizabeth recoiled in shock. She put her hands to her face in horror, feeling the cheekbones that were too sharp and the eyes that were too black and the glossy, dark hair that was too brown and too long to be her own. _

"_I'm not Cerys." She said to herself, swallowing hard and trying to convince herself. "We're totally different. I don't love him! I don't care for him, I wouldn't betray Will like that" She stepped out into the storm, ignoring the wind whipping around her. "I'M NOT CERYS!" The wind swallowed up her words and flung them out into the night so that the shouts echoed across the water. _

"_Will!" _

x

She was still cold and now there was a face for the eyes. Lovely green eyes.

"James, you're dead. Like him. It must be dream. Take me back home please, James." The man before her stopped moving at her words and his face seemed to tighten.

"Go back to sleep, Miss Sw – Elizabeth."

"I _am_ asleep, I need to wake up. It's just a dream, James. Don't you see?"

"It's just the fever bringing delusions, Elizabeth, go back to sleep." His words were curt, but she could read the fear in his eyes.

"Where's Will? I need to see him." She tried to rise, ignoring the pain and his firm hand on her shoulder. "James, where is he? Please, he's not hurt is he?" It pained him to hear her voice, weak with sickness and calling after another man.

"Mr. Turner is not here, Elizabeth. _Now go back to sleep._"

"Where am I, James?" Her eyes were wandering again. Around the room, moving restlessly over the bare walls. She appeared to have forgotten him again. Good. Scrubbing a hand over his tired eyes James Norrington sat on the end of the bed and listened. Raised voices echoed around the corridor.

"…she's my daughter! I have a right, man, now move out of the way. Move, I say!"

"What's all this commotion?" Ever pleasant and never nice, even in the middle of the night, Cutler Beckett's smooth tones joined the din in the corridor. "Governor Weatherby Swann, I'm afraid there's nothing here for you to see. Take him away."

"Wait!" Weatherby sounded hoarse, yet he had been yelling all night. "She's not – not …" He struggled with the words "not – dead, is she?" The words were hopeless and full of heartbreak, as if the governor was steeling himself for the worst.

"Not yet. Take him away." The door opened and Cutler Beckett strode in. "Mr. Norrington, how is our little prisoner?"

"I can't do anything for her, surely the physician –."

"Died in the attack by the Dutchman."

"Oh…well I suppose there is nothing left to do except wait."

Two pairs of eyes, one green, and one brown fixed upon the girl on the bed. Now we wait.

Elizabeth dreamed…

x

_A long, fresh scar ran up the gypsy's arm. It had stopped gushing blood, now it simply oozed. _

"_Remind me why I'm doing this?" The gypsy complained, looking nearly as pale and faint as she sounded. The woman stoppered the bottle full of crimson liquid, sighed and picked up the woman's other arm. The gypsy tried to focus on the 'P' of the pirate brand on her scarred arm, but everything was beginning to waver around dizzily. _

"_You owe me." The mysterious woman smiled. "I healed you then, I'll heal you now. Drink this, it'll make you feel better."_

"_Thank you."_

"_Now, to explain: There are three components to a man and they must be sacrificed to the Lords of the Dead if we ever wish to get your lover back; blood, body and soul. You give the blood, we find the soul–"_

"_And the body…?" The gypsy asked, beginning to feel her heart sink. _

"_There is this girl, she is dying…"_

"_Oh no…" The gypsy moaned. "I knew this was complicated. Why are you doing this anyway? It's not like you will benefit."_

_The mysterious woman turned away, fiddling with one of her dreadlocks. _

"_He will be needed." Then she sighed, "The coming of him will bring back your life and also bring about your death."_

"_Oh," The gypsy pondered this for a moment "One question, Tia. Who killed him?"_

"_Your old friend, witty Jack."_

x

"…rope her hands tightly, she's a little spitfire, than 'un." Cerys who had a black eye and claw marks running down her cheek, hissed at the two men. Ignoring that, they bound her hands tightly, as ordered. Despite the raw pain that niggled at her every time she moved, Cerys hadn't felt as alive in years. She could feel the magic throbbing in the centre of her chest, fiery-warm, waiting eagerly to be released. She didn't look around, but she could feel Hector's presence at her elbow. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that though his hands were bound, he still held his bloodied sword, raised with defiance.

The water was mid-calf by now and the gentle waves were almost breaking over the rail. Ten of them had survived, Cerys, Barbossa and Jack the monkey, Tia Dalma, Gibbs, Pintel and Ragetti, Marty, Cotton and his parrot.

The magic was moving down her arms now and she was sure that she was visibly shaking. It pushed at her fingertips, begging, pleading to be unchained. Should she let it out? She'd sent men mad with fear before, did this crew deserve it?

Too late … she lost control, it exploded outwards. No one else noticed, though she was sure that Tia and Hector, who were standing next to her, should be able to feel her humming with power. Then the wind howled, the thunder cracked and a fog descended like a blanket, making it impossible to see a foot from your face. Things moved in the fog and a cacophony of sounds rose. Many of them not created by her, but the sound of men screaming with fear at the things moving in the dense fog.

She was vastly enjoying herself, until the noise stopped. Screams petered out. The fog thinned. She pushed at the magic, but it was going, like water being sucked down a whirlpool. Something pushed at her consciousness, an older, more powerful magic. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped to her knees as the consciousness probed her.

'Thud' Something was moving and as it moved the fog thinned.

'Thud.' The Dutchman's crewmen stopped cowering at her creations and started cowering for the new arrival.

'Thud' "On your knees for the Capt'n." One of the crewmen snarled and Cerys felt the deck vibrate as the others all fell around her. She didn't open her eyes, She couldn't … It had all gone bad, Elizabeth taken and the boy too. She felt empty now, cold …

'Thud' He stopped in front of her, the Captain of the Flying Dutchman. Immortal in legend, legend that portrayed him to be of the most ruthless men ever known.

Steeling herself for the worst, she gathered her courage and opened her eyes. Blue eyes watched her, unwavering, as powerful and as cold as the sea. She shut her eyes and to her shame felt a tear slip under her eyelashes and her cheek.

"Just a gypsy…" He moved away, and she knew her chance to plead for their lives was gone. This was the end, well, she'd known she was going to die. Tia told her once, but unsurprisingly that didn't make it any easier. "Clap her in irons…" Hands grabbed her, but she didn't open her eyes. She knew what was coming. The iron was cold, so cold to her skin that it could have almost been white-hot, she couldn't tell the difference. Her senses dulled and she opened her eyes only to find her vision receding… Someone screamed faintly and it took a moment for her to realise that the horrible pain-filled wail was coming from her own mouth. She couldn't feel her hands and she was sinking into the water, the blackness swallowing her up.

x

Barbossa didn't look at Cerys, because he knew that if he did he just might just lose his temper. Nevertheless his whole body was trembling with fury. The Dutchman was watching knowingly, as if he knew every pain-filled thought that was passing through the Captain's mind.

"What do you want?" He asked, in a voice so calm that he surprised even himself.

"Do you have the heart?" With their eyes fixed on each other, the two Captains could have been the only people on the ship.

"No." Neither gaze wavered, but Barbossa was sure the Dutchman's eyes flickered a little at his answer. Barbossa stood and nobody dared to hinder him.

"You have three days to get it and return it."

"What's in it for me?" Barbossa fought the urge to run over to Cerys and make sure her head was above water. But it wasn't just about him and her anymore, he had the whole crew to think about.

"You have three days to get it or the boy dies." Davy Jones spat. Barbossa flinched, he hadn't meant too, but it was too late. The Dutchman smiled.

"What makes you think I care for the boy?" Barbossa tried valiantly to save the situation.

"You care." Davy Jones smiled, a truly terrible sight. "Back to the Dutchman!" He shouted to the crew without taking his eyes from Barbossa's face. "Three days." And then he was gone, leaving an empty kind of horror in everyone's face.

"A pity about the boy. But, those who fall behind, stay behind." Gibbs said, recovering and unravelling the ropes around his wrists. "All hands to the boats! We have to get off this junk before it sucks us down."

"Yes, a pity." Barbossa hardened his heart and fixed his gaze upon the land on the distant horizon. "We're about two days out of Tortuga. The Dutchman cannot trouble us upon land. A poorly thought out plan from him."

Tia was standing at the rail, watching Flying Dutchman sail away.

"It's a pity," Barbossa consoled, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"The boy's part is not over yet." Tia Dalma replied icily and she helped him drag the unconscious gypsy onto the long boats.

x

Will opened his eyes and the memories assaulted him. Then he wished that he was still unconscious. Images flashed across his mind; Black water bubbling up through the timber of the Lady Dragonfly, Beckett smiling as he offered to 'put them out of their misery', The Flying Dutchman exploding out of the water, Elizabeth screaming at him over the sinking deck, blood running down her face and matting in her flying, golden hair… And a barnacled face grinning as the wood came down hard, putting Elizabeth out of his reach forev – no, he would never let it be forever … _Elizabeth_…

She was in Beckett's hands now and for once he wasn't around to rescue her…

"She's gone…" He whispered involuntarily, still staring up at the black ceiling of his cell on the Dutchman.

"Who's gone?" A voice called from the darkness. Will glanced across and realised that there was a lantern hanging in the corridor outside his cell. It didn't illuminate the other cell, but Will didn't need the light to identify his father.

"You're still here!" He exclaimed incredulously and quite foolishly, since it wasn't likely that Bootstrap would have been anywhere else. Despite the hopelessness of the situation, Will didn't feel quite so bad anymore.

"Did you think I'd be going somewhere?" Bootstrap chuckled dryly and moved closer to the bars. The faint light was barely enough to pierce the inky blackness, but Will could almost see his father's face, complete with the familiar starfish. "So who's the maiden you're missing?"

So Will told him all about Elizabeth, how she spotted him in the water when they first met, how he'd been in love with her ever since she first smiled at him. He told his father about their adventures, about Barbossa and the catastrophe with Beckett and Davy Jones. By that time he was feeling so open that he almost spilled everything about Jack and the kiss and how everything had been bad ever since. But then he caught himself, knowing he wouldn't have been able to talk about that without sounding petty and jealous. So, he explained the latest adventure and how this one had gone all pear-shaped. Bootstrap was particularly interested in the gypsy they'd picked up in Tortuga.

"I forgot! The ruby! Do you have it?" Will exclaimed suddenly, leaning forward and feeling his familiar drive and purpose return. If he could just take that, escape with his father, find Beckett, rescue Elizabeth and set off to find Jack again, then it would all come good. In his mind the plan didn't really sound that foolish, but he didn't risk letting it out into the air.

"I have it." Bootstrap replied, patting his coat pocket, a queer look coming over his face. "I'd be glad to be rid of it too."

"It's bad luck." Will said anxiously. "Tia Dalma explained it all."

"That'd be right." His father muttered, withdrawing into the darkness again. "You should get some rest, Will, the crew will come to call soon enough." Will tried valiantly to find a comfortable place to put his head, but that venture was rather useless. Eventually he gave up and curled up in a ball, hoping he wouldn't drown in his sleep because his head was lying in a puddle. Sleep didn't come quickly, but Elizabeth did. He could see her in his imagination, standing out on the deck of the Lady Dragonfly, her beautiful hair tossing in the wind. He wished he could be with her, even just for a single moment. It felt awful not knowing her fate upon Beckett's ship; the Enterprise. Needless to say, sleep did not come for quite a while…

x

I apologise for the slight Jack + Liz stuff. Don't worry, I'm still firmly WE forever! Review everyone and I might hit 35 reviews! That's phenomenal numbers… for me anyway. Have I updated quickly again? Sorry…this chapter just wrote itself really.


	8. Killing Shadows

Eighth Chapter – Killing Shadows

I'm so sorry! This took ages to write and I've started a new school and moved interstate, so it's been really hectic. It's a pretty crappy chapter, 'cause I don't think I could live up to the last one, which everyone seemed to like… But I hope you're still around and haven't deserted me. Er…Happy Reading and don't forget to review.

Love Jay

xx

Beckett paced around his cabin, watching the sun sink below the darkening horizon. The girl was still unconscious, having survived a night and a day in captivity. The replacement physicians, though rather incompetent, assured the impatient lord that her survival so far was a good sign.

"…only get better before it gets worse," finished the young sailor, oblivious to the fact that Beckett had barely heard a word he'd said. Beckett waved a dismissive hand and pulled the curtains across the windows. A twitchy man rushed to light the swaying lanterns, so that milord would never be inconvenienced by the darkness.

"Fetch me James Norrington," Beckett sighed, "and shut the door after you leave." The man scurried off, eager to please his demanding master.

Mercer set a glass goblet on the table beside Beckett's right elbow. At Beckett's nod the man filled the goblet with ruby coloured liquid and then withdrew into the shadows as a knock sounded throughout the cabin.

"Enter,"

Norrington stepped hesitantly through the doorway, enjoying the feel of the heavy rug underneath his worn boots. The cabin and its furnishings positively oozed wealth and money: Red velvet curtains dripping with gold brocade, a gleaming polished wood table groaning with heaps of papers and costly ornaments, a metal brazier filled to the brim with hot coals, lending heat and flickering light to the room, great portraits, presumably Beckett's ancestors, glaring down at him…

A faint cough brought James' attention back to the man at the table. Beckett raised an ornate goblet to his lips, a goblet that didn't quite disguise the smug smile that played across his face. James cursed himself for his obvious envy of Beckett's cabin and felt heat suffuse his cheeks.

Beckett pulled his mind back to the problems at hand and slammed the goblet down so hard that spirits slopped over onto the table. Norrington watched the twitchy man dart out of the shadows and wipe the table clean with his handkerchief.

"I need the information that the girl has," Beckett stood restlessly and commenced pacing.

"What information?" James inquired, his voice and face impassive.

Beckett stopped and turned to him, his cold hard eyes boring into James' own.

"Elizabeth Swann," He started, his eyes gleaming dangerously at mention of her name, "has been in the company of pirates who have been evading justice for nigh on ten years. She would know where the ships generally make berth, how much cargo they carry, whether they carry cargo of much value and most importantly whether or not the pirates would unite in the event of an attack by the gathered forces of the East India Trading Company." He didn't lift his gaze from James' equally hard green eyes. "Information that you seemed to have conveniently forgotten."

James' mouth tightened briefly.

"The information is not urgently needed and Miss Swann is hardly fit for interrogation at this moment in time."

"When I want information, Mr Norrington, that information _is_ urgently needed." There was a pause as Beckett gathered his temper and his thoughts. "Tonight we will risk moving her to the brig, where the interrogation will commence," He sat down heavily, all might and power draining out of him like water trickling through cupped hands.

James turned to go, certain he'd already been dismissed. Beckett's soft words caught him off guard,

"I have been informed that there is a chance that the girl may not survive the night. Should you become too emotionally attached, Mr Norrington, you may find yourself cooling your heels in the brig. Don't be so foolhardy as to get between me and the information that the girl contains." The threat hung heavily in the air between them and James stepped out hurriedly, not pausing to give Beckett the respectful bow he demanded.

x

The faint light barely illuminated the deathly still figure on the bed. James traced the light down the curve of her cheek, ignoring the dark circles under her eyes and the open gash that was barely visible through the thin curtain of hair falling over her face. He followed the light over the shoulder that peeked out of her dishevelled nightgown and tore his gaze away where it disappeared in the rise and fall of her chest.

Elizabeth Swann had been a lively child and then a sharp, bright young woman all the time he'd known her. It was unnerving to see her so lifeless and still.

It didn't seem like long before the men came back and lifted her easily from the bed ignoring the way her legs were tangling with the sheets. James caught the sheet, feeling a shiver of hot unsuppressed desire as his fingers brushed against the warm skin of her calf.

They left her in the brig, the only thing protecting her from cold and chill the flimsy nightgown half falling from her slender frame. James sighed and lent his tired face to the cold metal bars, trying very hard not to lose hope at the sight of her blank face. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was a while before he gathered the strength to climb back up the stairs.

Her eyes snapped open. Her heart thudded painfully in her bruised chest. Then the horrible noise came again, somebody groaning in absolute agony. Elizabeth sat up, ignoring her swimming head and glancing around for the noise. Across in a far corner of the cell, blood was pooling, tricking through the cracks in the floor. The girl moaned again and began whispering through broken lips, words that Elizabeth didn't recognise.

The blood was coming from the gaping slash across her head, matting her black curls and seeping across the filthy floor. Her breath coming in short panicked gasps; Elizabeth crawled across to the girl, ignoring her own aching limbs. She searched feverishly through her clothes, for a handkerchief or anything really, just to clean up all that blood.

All that blood. The girl gasped and moaned as Elizabeth drew closer, pained tears trickling down fevered cheeks as her eyelids fluttered quickly. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of deep dark brown eyes and felt a strange unstoppable shudder tear through her body. The girl was cradling one arm to her chest and kept tossing her head around in obvious agony.

Elizabeth reached out a tentative hand towards the girl, eager to soothe the distress on the beautiful face. For a single moment she felt the smooth black curls under her finger, felt the blood slippery on her fingers and then she was falling, her hand smacking down onto the floor of the brig and the girl was gone.

She staggered backwards in terror and shock. As soon as she stood, the world tipped away from her feet and the floor knocked the breath from her lungs. Blood trickled down her face, still gaping in shock. The memory of the girl was fading, like Elizabeth's vision, which was receding as her eyes lost focus and her mind wandered from her battered body.

xx

"Did you see the chest?" A smooth familiar voice wrenched Will quickly from his nightmares and had him standing to attention before he'd barely gotten sleep from his mind.

"The chest…?" Will found himself asking stupidly, as he attempted to clear his mind. The figure that had spoken was standing just beyond the circle of light, which gave Will the strange feeling that he was talking to nobody.

"You saw the chest." Davy Jones answered for him, still not stepping forward. There was an irritated puff and a little cloud of pipe smoke floated out into the light. Will shivered involuntarily, pulling his wet coat tighter around his shaking shoulders.

"Did you see what was inside?"

Now Will knew what the Captain was talking about. Images from that day at the island came flooding back. Elizabeth's face lighting up with joy as she saw him for the first time since Beckett had sent him on a wild goose chase, leaving his marriage in tatters. The chest under his hands, the key at the lock, so close to having what he'd wanted.

"No." He replied, closing his tired brown eyes.

Another irritated puff of smoke tickled at Will's nose.

"Sparrow is truly dead."

A question. "Aye." Will agreed, almost feeling a tiny bit of pity for his friend. Which was good of him considering that Jack had sold him to Davy Jones in the first place and while he was serving on the Dutchman seduced his fiancée away from him…

_Elizabeth…_

She might be dead by now, well and truly gone from his reach forever…

"Come, boy," growled a gruff, but not unkind voice. The cell was unlocked and a barnacled hand pulled him out into the darkness and then back into the light. Will glanced up and saw the moon, reflected on the calm water and peering through the Dutchman's ragged sails. Despite the roaring crowd of bloodthirsty cutthroats in front of him, Will felt a tiny bit better. Perhaps Elizabeth was gazing up at this very same moon, thinking of him. He doubted it. But it was a nice thought nonetheless.

Davy Jones appeared, he looked tired and old and had an unfamiliar slow drag to his normally wobbly gait.

"Do what you will with him," The weathered Captain said, "He is of no use to us."

The crowd howled their approval. Will shut his eyes in simple tiredness and let the moonlight burn down on his face. Rough hands pulled jostled him into place. They tore his shirt, the flimsy wet cotton ripping easily. The old silver-pink raised scars from last time gleamed in the moonlight for a moment before new blood red lines joined them across his back.

Will tried to not to give them the pleasure of hearing his voice raised in agony. In the Bosun's hands, that terrible thing ripped through, air, flesh and blood even easier than before. If he opened his eyes he couldn't see the moon, all he could see was the limpet-covered timber of the mast in front of him. Somehow that made the pain harder to bear.

"_Will!"_ Someone yelled. Will turned his head and caught a quick glimpse of his father, before a heavy fist caught the side of his face. He bit his lip until blood ran down his chin, alike to the hot blood that was running down his back.

He woke in the cell again, surrounded by the all-consuming blackness. He turned his head a little, ignoring the white-hot agony that came with the movement. Pale straying beams of light ran across the floor. He followed them up the side of the other wall until he could see his father's tired, worried face. Opening his mouth to reassure the tired man that he would be perfectly fine in a moment, Will was surprised to find the only thing that came out of his mouth was a gasping, pain-filled breath.

xx

Warmth trickled through the air, flushing Elizabeth's blank face and warming her cold limbs. She woke for the second time that night, but feeling considerably more comfortable. As she moved instinctively closer to the warmth, she noticed a faint shadowy person standing just beyond her cell.

Beckett idly shifted the poker though the hot coals, watching the stirring girl out of the corner of his eye. She looked far better than she had, with the colour in her cheeks. Brushing the hair away from her face, she was inspecting the stitched up gash in her head. Stitched up by a man who'd never done the like before.

"What are you doing?" The question caught him off guard. He hadn't noticed her standing. She was leaning against the bars, drawing closer to the heat without coming too close to him. He smiled at her. He raised the poker and she saw the familiar 'P', gleaming white-hot.

He watched the colour drain away from her face with interest. She moved away from the bars, only a little unsteady on her feet. An image of that girl, dying in this very cell, cradling her arm to her chest flashed suddenly over her eyes. Then she knew… Cerys… Feeling sick, she looked back up at Beckett's cold grey-green eyes.

"I just want to ask you a couple of questions, Miss Swann."

"What do you want to know?" she asked faintly.

"That's the spirit." Beckett smiled down at her.

Norrington had decided. Feverishly, he shoved the provisions into the small leather bag. A compass went next and then after a sigh, the tempting bottles of rum that he'd been sitting on for a while. The two pistols he'd taken from the armoury were shoved into the waistband of his pants.

Tucking a knife into his coat-sleeve, just in case, he was ready. Nothing would stop him now, but he would have to hurry before Beckett got to her.

"I shan't tell you anything." She said firmly, her eyes flashing at him defiantly across the cell. Beckett was struggling to keep a hold on his temper.

The brand hadn't frightened her enough to give and he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Miss Swann, you aren't really in a position to argue." He took a deep breath and suddenly smiled as a thought came to him. "It would be really sad if Master Swann were to suffer an accident."

Elizabeth tore across the cell in a second. She leant up against the bars, reaching her hands through to grab him and hurt him. "What have you done?" She hissed, as Beckett stepped back in almost fright. She'd almost looked scary enough to frighten him, then, with her eyes alight and her hair flying around her head like a strange halo. But Elizabeth Swann was anything but an angel.

"Nothing," he replied, surprised and annoyed to hear a small tremor in his voice. "But if you weren't to answer me… then I'm sure something could be arranged."

Elizabeth opened her mouth, her lips trembling with anger and fear, but before she could answer, somebody clattered down the stairs.

"James!" A beautiful smile burst across her face at the sight of him. Beckett scowled at Norrington. He opened his mouth to call for aid, but before he'd even taken a breath Norrington knocked him over the head with a pistol.

Elizabeth gave James a trembling grin as she watched Beckett crumple onto the floor.

"We thought you'd died." She whispered as he unlocked the cell with the keys from Beckett's belt. James avoided her hug by thrusting the clothes at her. Somehow he didn't quite trust himself enough for that.

"Put these on," He said, turning away. "And hurry."

It wasn't long before they were on deck. Elizabeth smiled up at the moon, but then a thought struck her. The smile faded.

"Where's father?" She asked, as he began lowering the boat down to the water. "…Beckett mentioned." She stopped.

James glanced nervously at the circle of light where the lookout was sitting. "Keep it down, please." Then he paused.

"Beckett had him killed." His voice quivered. Elizabeth staggered, her knees giving out from under her.

"What?" She whispered. He picked her up easily and lifted her into the boat.

"I'm sorry," he said, but she didn't answer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered the provisions in the leather bag. He picked up the water skins and the pistols, turning around to put them in the boat. He gasped.

The boat was empty and the knife that had been lying at her feet was gone.

"Elizabeth!" He whispered, feeling suddenly panicky.

She pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. Anger was breaking over her like waves on a beach. The cabin was empty; no one sat at the desk. Elizabeth gave a little growl of frustration and swung her gaze around the luxurious cabin, ignoring the tears that blurred her vision. How could Beckett have done that? Her father had never deserved to die…

A shadow moved. Elizabeth squeaked in fright and raised the knife clenched in her fist instinctively. The shadow groaned as the knife slid between his ribs. Elizabeth dropped the knife as the blood gushed over her hands. The shadow sagged and hit the floor with a thud. She waited a second for the guilt and anger at herself to come, but it never did.

"Elizabeth?" James stepped into the cabin and almost tripped over the dark figure on the floor. Blood was soaking the carpet, squelching under his feet. "Mercer." He whispered half to himself as he identified the cooling body.

"What?" Elizabeth barely looked up from where she was going through Beckett's drawers. The colour was back in her gaunt cheeks and her eyes were burning with that familiar defiance.

"Nothing," he hissed quietly, "We need to go, now!"

"Just wait," she muttered absentmindedly, her hand stilling in one of the drawers. "What's this?" she pulled out a small brown bag and peered inside. "Oh."

Looking nauseated, she leant heavily on the desk. "How did he get that?" she asked, her bright brown eyes piercing. James blushed.

"Come on," he said, looking nervously over his shoulder, "lets just go." As she staggered, he picked her up again and carried her to the boat. He set her down and lowered the boat into the water. Looking over as he began to row away from the _Enterprise_, he noticed tears running down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." He said awkwardly.

Again she didn't answer.

xx

So there we go then, I hope it was good enough, do review and tell me…


	9. Broken Promises

Ninth Chapter – Broken Promises

Much love to williz, italicized picaroon (Nice penname, btw ;P), quilhan, Koneka Guardian, Lady Alfaelyn and Lexy for reviewing! Thanks to everyone for sticking around.

x

"No rum. No food. No water. No willing ladies of doubtful honour. No treasure. No ships. No pleasurable company. No Rum. No Rum. No RUM."

"Shut it, Jack, you're not making this any easier."

"Will you be my pleasurable company, Anamaria?"

"Jack!"

"Yes?"

"SHUT YER BLOODY MOUTH!"

"It was just a question, dear one."

"Dear one?"

"Sorry."

"You will be…"

"Ouch! Careful, you might damage my…goods."

"That was intended."

"Oh. How long have you been here, Ana?"

"Dunno."

"When do we get to leave this bloody place?"

"Dunno."

"Where did that annoying dog go?"

"I don't know!….Why?"

"I want to shoot something."

x

"You're pulling the wrong way!"

"I am not!" Elizabeth bristled, brushing hair off her sweaty forehead and glaring across at James."

"Elizabeth, we're going round in circles."

"Well maybe you're pulling the wrong way!"

"Fine." James gave up and sagged into the boat, dropping his oar and squinting up the sun.

"Is there any water left?"

He tossed a half-empty water skin at her. She drank thirstily, not spilling a single drop. Then she took the compass from his limp hand and flipped it open.

"How much longer until we get to Tortuga?"

"About another day, I think."

She snapped the compass shut, quelling the memories of Jack that the simple compass brought. Kicking out at James, she began to row again, fixing her gaze on the horizon and pulling back, again and again and again. Slowly but surely she could feel the energy draining out of her, it suddenly seemed pointless to keep rowing when there was nothing left to row to.

She dropped the oar again.

"Elizabeth!"

"Where am I going?"

"What?"

"I mean really, what's the point, Will's gone, Jack's gone – "

"What happened to Sparrow?"

Elizabeth put her shaking hands up to her face, as if trying to hold herself together.

"I killed him."

"Don't be dramatic, that was a serious question."

"I did."

James peered closer at her, reaching out a hand to take hers. She looked up at him, with what seemed like all the despair in the world contained in her sad brown eyes.

"You didn't!"

"I'm sorry." She put her hands to her pounding head and curled further into herself, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"And Turner…?"

She didn't speak, preferring only to look up at him again, her eyes dulled with unhappiness.

"I'm sorry." He cleared his throat and looked away for a moment, almost embarrassed at her distress. "Wait, what's that?" he'd caught sight of a smudge on the horizon. She took a deep breath and looked up.

"It's a ship." She said wonderingly, leaning over the side in her effort to catch a better view of the approaching vessel. "Quick!" She stood up, rocking the boat dangerously. "Help! Help us!"

"Shh, wait," James peered closer at the ragged sails and the barnacled hull. "That's no normal ship."

Davy Jones lowered the telescope.

"Bring them aboard." He said, without turning around to the crew. The two men in the long boat had stopped waving frantically, probably noticing that his was no normal ship. A very small smile crept over Davy Jones's face at the thought.

"It's the Flying Dutchman."

"What?" James looked back at Elizabeth. Her eyes were bright, but not with tears.

She was adding things up in her head. They took Will. She'd taken the Heart from Beckett. They had a large amount of fearsome men creatures armed with sharp objects. She had a long knife and a lot of anger. The odds were in her favour.

Without a second thought for her confused companion, Elizabeth took a deep breath and jumped.

x

Every breath hurt, every movement made him wonder if living was really worth the effort. Hands were shaking him; a voice calling him, probably unaware that the shaking was what was keeping him from being able to sit up. The relentless voice petered off into nothing, leaving a silence in which Will could hear his own laboured breathing. For some reason the silence scared him more than the voice had.

Footsteps clattered around above the brig and Bootstrap shut his eyes in frustration for a moment. The boy was still unconscious; unable to keep his eyes open for more than a second. His hands closed around the weight in his pocket. It would be cruel to give bad luck to the boy, his son… But surely it would be crueller not to. Voices advanced, shadows shifting outside the cell.

He didn't have enough time to hesitate…Wrenching the thing out of his pocket he gave up his burden to the one he wished most to save from it. Will barely stirred as Bootstrap shoved the ruby into his pocket. For a single moment, Bootstrap took what he knew could be one last look at his son's face. Will's eyes snapped open, revealing bright brown eyes that reminded Bootstrap intensely of Mary Jane.

Then he was swiftly out of Will's cell and back into his own, two cells that had been accidentally left unlocked in the chaos of the last night.

He watched the men drag his son away, digging his nails into his palms in an effort not to jump out and stop them. He could do nothing more now, the lives of everyone were in the hands of fate. Guilt welled up inside him at the thought that the bad luck he had given his son would only hinder him. If his son failed, it would be his fault.

Shutting his eyes he lay back onto the cell floor. The image that flashed across his eyes just before he succumbed to sleep was the bright brown eyes filled with trust and hope, looking up at him.

"But I need your help!" Jack sounded confused, as if he didn't understand why Bootstrap would even consider not going with him. 

"_Jack, I have a son and a wife. I can't just up and leave them for some foolhardy fancy of yours," _

"_We're talking about Aztec Gold, Bill," Jack's voice softened to an eager whisper as he leaned over their half-consumed bottles of rum towards Bootstrap. "We'll be rich men."_

_Bootstrap could feel his resolve wearing thin. Why, Mary Jane had said just the other day that young William would need new shoes soon and he had been too ashamed to tell her that he hadn't the money. Maybe this wild plan of Jack's would be just the thing to help him set up his family financially. _

_Jack sensed Bootstrap weakening. _

"_Come on, mate, you've never let me down before…"_

_Bootstrap sighed. _

"_Where will we get a crew?"_

"_That's the spirit!" Jack leaned back in his chair, all smiles again. Bootstrap watched the shadows play across the man's enigmatic eyes and wondered what Jack was getting him into this time…_

The Dreamscene changes… 

_He could tell from the way her eyes and mouth tightened that she was trying very hard not to cry. _

"_But what about us?" She hissed angrily, keeping her voice down so as not to wake the boy sleeping in the next room. _

"_I don't know…" Bootstrap sighed and let his legs fold up into the chair by the fire. _

"_You promised, you promised…" She took a deep breath and shut her brown eyes tight, refusing to let a single tear escape. _

"_I know," Bootstrap stood and pulled her into his embrace. "and I'm sorry, but you know we need the money Jack's schemes always bring." _

_She snuggled closer to him, pressing her lips together so the sobs wouldn't escape. It took a moment before she trusted her voice enough to speak again. _

"_You promised me you wouldn't leave again…" _

_The hopelessness in that sad little voice almost broke Bootstrap's heart. _

"_I'll come back," He whispered back, "I promise."_

_Mary Jane very quietly gave into her tears._

_x_

They pulled her aboard, rough hands under her arms, tugging at her loose gold hair. Night was falling, spreading across the sky as the sun set. Elizabeth's hand slipped under her tunic, curling around the bag she'd stolen from Beckett's office reassuringly.

She vaguely heard James struggling against the men behind her, but most of her attention was focused on two figures standing not far away. Well, one standing, the other falling slowly but surely to his knees.

An almost painful rush of love and desire consumed her and for a moment all she could see was him. Her eyes took in the way his head was bowed and the way his hair fell across his face. _He's alive…_

"Davy Jones." It was hard to breathe, let alone speak through the growing lump in her throat, so the smooth voice that came out of her throat seemed detached from her body completely.

He barely acknowledged her. She pulled the bag out of her pocket and everyone on board the Dutchman suddenly went stock-still. In the silence that followed all eyes were on the bag as it slowly beat up and down.

You could almost _hear_ the heart beat.

"Your terms?" Davy Jones asked after a moment. If he hadn't taken Will from her, not once but twice, she would have admired his composure. As it was, she hated his guts.

"He goes free…" her voice was almost a whisper, but in the quiet it sounded out as clear as day.

Davy Jones looked down at Will as if he'd almost forgotten that he was there.

"You're welcome to him."

"And…" Elizabeth attempted to make her brain move on from the one wish that she had. A wish that her and Will coulde be safely together forever. As she hesitated, James moved behind her and no one hindered him. He gently took the heart and knife from her hands. She hardly noticed.

The distance between him and Elizabeth wasn't all that far, but to Will it felt like miles. The thought crossed his mind that he might be dreaming, but was dismissed quickly. The pain in his back was far too real. It took all the strength he had to lift his head, but to see her it was worth it.

She was like the sun, he decided. Bold, bright, beautiful, essential, he couldn't live life properly without her. But it sometimes felt like if he looked at her too hard or too long he would burn. She looked like that now, fiercely courageous, rescuing him instead of it being the other way around. As it should have been.

Just as his knees gave out, she was there, both arms flung around him to keep him from hitting the deck. The pressure of her hands on his back would have been too much to bear had been anyone else but for her.

Elizabeth's breath was coming in quick gasps. His back was wet under her frantic hands and even as she held him, he was slipping away, brown eyes unfocused. In her panic she couldn't quell the incoherent words spilling out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, Oh God… I never meant this to happen…"

Her knees hit the deck and he slipped out of her arms, falling onto his back on the deck. He could barely feel the pain anymore. Smiling up at her, he lifted one of his hands to touch her face, just in case she wasn't really there. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her mouth, ignoring the tears falling down her cheeks. He moved his hand to trace her new scar, the one that wasn't there when they'd last been together. With an unfamiliar cold feeling creeping up his spine he realised she'd changed a lot in the few days they'd been apart. There was something new in her eyes, something scary.

"I'm going to be fine," he said, screwing up his face in the attempt to sit up. A hysterical giggle escaped Elizabeth. She thought it rather funny that he was lying on the deck of the Flying Dutchman, basically dying and he wasted his breath reassuring her that everything was going to be fine. A tear dripped off the end of her nose and she gripped his hand as if that grip was all that was keeping him alive.

"You drive a hard bargain, Commodore Norrington." Davy Jones suddenly smiled, "But I accept your terms."

James had the feeling that he was being cheated, but considering the Dutchman's men surrounded him he decided not to press it.

"I will raise the Lady Dragonfly from the depths for you and ensure that no ship will trouble your passage to World's End, in return for the object which you stole." He stepped closer. "We will take you to Tortuga and the day after you get there the Lady Dragonfly will be in the harbour."

"Agreed." James clenched his jaw and turned away. The horizon was clear, sparkling with stars, but still a hint of unease troubled his mind.

x

Tortuga… James had wished never to come back to the damned place, but it at the moment it seemed that fate had a grudge against him. He sighed and looked down off the ship at the docks, where the night-time crowds crowded. He was upon the Lady Dragonfly. Davy Jones had grudgingly stayed true to his word and the Lady Dragonfly was once again happily afloat. And she was looking none the worse for her venture below the waterline, James observed, attempting to keep his mind from the things that were truly worrying him.

Elizabeth hadn't spoken a single word to him since they had been out at sea on the long boat. He'd been worrying what he'd done wrong when he remembered that she probably had her hands full worrying about her boy.

Turner had grown, James could tell by the deep shadows present behind the otherwise clear brown eyes. But he would never be able to see Turner as anything other that the rash blacksmith boy that he remembered from way back when things had been simple.

"Things are never simple, Commodore,"

James shuddered and turned around to see a truly frightening black smile. The woman, whoever she was, seemed to know Elizabeth and had turned up with a bunch of people James had thought he never see again. Particularly the captain, a man with an impressive hat and dead looking blue grey eyes. Captain Barbossa definitely had been dead last time James had checked.

"Death is not always an end," Tia Dalma drew closer, leaning precariously over the side of the ship to gaze down at the unending depths of the dark water. James really wished she wouldn't speak to him; sometimes he was afraid she saw too much. And there were things, thoughts, half-formed dreams in James's head that he hadn't even admitted to himself.

"We'll cast off tomorrow," The woman said, tugging on his sleeve to turn him to face her. "Will you come with us?"

James felt a lump grow in his throat. He didn't want to travel to an imaginary place with a dead Captain and a mad crew, but then where else had he to go? A sudden image flashed across his mind. He remembered Elizabeth's eyes when he rescued her and the smile she'd flashed across at him when he'd opened her cell. It was times like that when he wondered what might have been if she hadn't noticed William Turner unconscious in the water all those years ago. If Turner had never come to Port Royal… What might have been…?

James shook his head abruptly and focused on the woman standing before him. She had her head cocked to one side and was watching his eyes with a knowing, slightly sad smile on her dark face.

"Where else have I to go?" he asked wryly.

She nodded and turned away, whispering to herself. But before she moved away, James caught her some of her words.

"Sometimes I think it isn't that there isn't _enough _love in this world, it is that there is too much…"

x

PS: Just before you go (and leave me a review of course) I'd like to say sorry to quilhan for not writing a proper WE makeup scene this chapter. I'll really do it next chapter, I promise… I just didn't think the kiss would fit in that bit cause he was kinda injured and all. And I'm also sorry to everyone for my bad characterisation of James Norrington, 'cause I think he's much cooler than I make him out to be here.

Toodles,

Jay!


	10. Love

– _Chapter Ten_–

It's not very long and it's not very inspired. But enjoy it, because, I'm having a rough week with goddamn homework. I'm sorry about the long update thing. I've been to Europe and back, which was awesome!!!! So blame the jet lag or something. Not long 'til AWE comes out! SQUEEE! And Deathly Hallows (7th Harry Potter) OMG this year is turning out to be frigging great! LOVE YOU ALL. Specially those of you who take the time to review and reassure me that I'm not going off the rail entirely.

Love, Jay.

The making of this chapter owes a lot to Coldplay's album 'A Rush of Blood to the Head' Go listen to it, it's fantastic.

She could barely remember what her father looked like, what he'd said when he'd tucked in when she was young… She couldn't quite recall the sound of his laugh and the colour of his smile.

Elizabeth let her head fall back and winced at the pain that shot through her as her head hit the door behind her. The stars were painfully bright, twinkling cheerfully. Surely the moon had no right to be that brilliant. Tia had kicked her out of her cabin hours ago with a bottle of rum and a command to 'drown yer sorrows'.

Elizabeth had simply complied. She hadn't the will nor the strength to fight against Tia's wishes.

Will's condition had worsened before she'd left. Tia was treating his wounds, stitching up the gashes that marred the smooth brown muscles of his back. The scars hadn't escaped her notice. The thought that it had happened to him while she was flirting with Jack on the Black Pearl was almost too much to bear. She felt unbelievably guilty.

The bottle slipped from her limp hand and rolled across the deck. It tossed and rolled as the ship flew across the waves. Elizabeth followed its progress and started with shock as its journey across the deck was cut short by a booted foot.

Cerys looked down at her, expression inscrutable, one hand ruffling her salt and pepper curls.

"I heard what happened, I'm sorry," she looked and sounded uncomfortable.

"You make it sound like he's dead." Elizabeth said roughly, wincing at the strange voice that came from her mouth.

"Is he?" Cerys' dark eyes were hard and unforgiving.

"N-no," Elizabeth couldn't disguise the tremble in her voice.

Suddenly the door banged open and Elizabeth fell backwards onto the floor. She found herself looking up into the dark doll-like face of Tia Dalma.

"He's sleeping," the healer said distractedly, her gaze shifting between Cerys and Elizabeth.

Morning was breaking over the world when she pulled up a chair inside and watched him sleep, wondering exactly when their perfect fairytale love had fallen apart. Looking at his face properly for the first time in ages, she noticed that he didn't look like that boy in the water. He looked like someone else. How long had it been since she'd looked at him properly? Looked at the love in his eyes and not taken it for granted. There were lines of pain around his eyes that she'd never noticed before. She tried to brush them away with hands that were brown and callused with wind and sea.

Now she was afraid that the love that was once there would be gone and her feelings would be unrequited. Before he'd been the one that wasn't sure if he wasn't good enough for her. Now she wondered if she was good enough for him. But not even these gloomy thoughts could quell the feeling that was making her heart want to explode. They were finally together after so much trouble and Jack wasn't between them preventing that happily-ever-after.

An unexpected smile burst out of her, for no reason at all. When was the last time she smiled just because she could? She found his hand and held it and when she looked back at his face he was watching her smile. He looked better; there was colour in his cheeks and almost no pain in his eyes.

Falling off her chair in her haste she leaned over him and buried her face in his chest. He smelt like Will. That thought was almost enough to bring her to tears. Tears of happiness.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice ragged.

"For what?" she inquired, not moving.

"Rescuing me," he paused, "again."

"Can we start over again?" Elizabeth looked up, kneeling on the floor and leaning her elbows on the bed. Will didn't say anything.

"So much has happened, I'm not sure we can be what we were when this started."

"Is that a no?" Elizabeth moved away a little, bitter disappointment poison on her tongue. Sitting up, he grabbed her elbows and pulled her up onto the bed. Elizabeth was quite surprised to suddenly find herself so close. His grip relaxed as he realised that he had startled her, but without hesitation she leaned forward and kissed him. For a heart-stopping moment he didn't move. Then he pulled her a little closer with a groan that made her insides flutter. Her fingers somehow got entangled in his hair, as she straddled him, their mouths only coming away for a brief second to breathe.

"Elizabeth," his breath was heart-thrillingly ragged, "You're almost too much for me."

His warm hands were braced on her hips, sliding under the thin cotton shirt she wore. Pleased little murmurs were involuntarily escaping her mouth at the tremors that his fingers sent shocking through her. Will moved his mouth to her neck and Elizabeth threw her head back, gasping for breath. Indecent and unladylike thoughts took over her mind.

"Will," she whispered, after a long minute. He looked up, brown eyes meeting hers with an unspoken smile. "Will you marry me?"

Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her open lips. "Yes," he murmured. The vibration of his voice against her cheek made her shudder in a very pleasant way.

x

Cerys lit her pipe, savouring that first breath of sweet smoke. Contentedly she put her feet up on Tia's table and eyed the other woman across the room.

"What now?"

Tia Dalma looked up from the map she was studying.

"What d'you mean, 'what now?'?" she mocked waspishly.

Cerys glared at her. Eventually Tia sighed.

"To tell the truth, I'm not quite sure. You'll have to ask the Captain."

Then it was Cerys's turn to sigh. She had been avoiding Hector, for reasons she couldn't quite explain. Not even to herself.

"You love him, yes?" Tia asked, black eyes boring into Cerys.

"As wise as you are, Tia Dalma, you seem to know nothing of love." Cerys nervously ran her hand through her short streaky black curls.

"True, I have never been in love," Tia Dalma "And of that I am quite glad. For it seems to me that love is simply pain."

James Norrington, half asleep on the bed behind Tia's screen, agreed wholeheartedly. But Cerys sat up straighter, taking another drag on her pipe and glared down at the witch-woman.

"Love is more than pain. It's having a simple word from the mouth of the one you love brighten your day. It's more than desire; it's fondness, affection, laughter and contentment," her voice softened as she continued. "It's feeling safe with the one you love even when you're far from safe."

Tia snorted and brushed her fingers at empty air as if dismissing the gypsy's point.

"I never thought you'd be one to go in for all that sentimental drivel, girl," Tia laughed again and passed the map across the table. "Take this to the Captain. Maybe he'll 'brighten your day'," she laughed mockingly, black eyes sparkling.

James heard nothing but a long stream of curses and then the cabin door slammed. Cerys was gone.

Cerys marched across the deck, her movements merging with the roll and swell of the waves. The wind whipped across her face, making her eyes water.

She opened the cabin door, just as a gust of wind came up behind her. The icy cold gust ripped the door handle from her grip and slammed it against the opposite wall. Hector looked up abruptly.

"What's wrong now?" he asked snappishly, taking in her watery eyes.

Cerys ignored him and unrolled the map across his table. She completely disregarded the fact that there was other stuff on the table, just brushed it way crossly. Hector frowned faintly as bottles of rum and ink smashed on the floor.

"Where do we go now?" she demanded,

"I'm glad to see yer feeling better," he said dryly, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the desk.

"I neither have the time, nor the patience for your foolery," Cerys snarled, her heart thundering in her chest as he looked up at her with those icy blue-grey eyes.

He didn't look at the map, but merely stabbed his finger down in what seemed to her a random spot in the middle of the Ocean.

"That is where we head," he whispered,

"There's nothing there," she pointed out in a completely flat voice, "That's the middle of the Ocean."

"At that precise spot, lies an island and on that island is another world. It's not on the map because nobody knows where it is." he looked up, "because those who go there, don't come back out."

"You did," she said quietly, as their eyes meet across the map.

"I didn't come out, you pulled me out. You and Tia and the other girl."

"No…" Cerys cried softly, putting her hands to her face, "No, it wasn't my fault."

"The girl that you killed, what was her name?"

For a moment, the dark-haired woman didn't speak, then…

"Anamaria," Cerys didn't look up, "I didn't kill her, she was dying."

"Why?"

"Jungle Fever,"

"No, I mean why would you do that?" his voice softened, "Why would you go to all those lengths to save someone you'd forgotten about?"

The candle flickered as the wind whipped through the open door, Cerys shivered.

"I never forgot you," and it was then that he realised that she was crying. He got up quickly and came closer to her.

"Stop living in the past, Cerys, what happened then happened. We can't change it."

She didn't say anything, only hugged herself tighter, lips pressed together in an effort to suppress either fury or tears, he couldn't tell.

"I love you," he whispered, looking away with shame.

She looked up then, dark eyes shining with tears or happiness. Then she came closer, pulling him closer.

"Dance with me," she demanded, smiling that familiar bright smile.

x

The beach stretched as far as the eye could see. It was infinite, it never stopped. It was only when Jack came across his own footsteps when he realised what and idiot he had been. He flopped down on the wet sand, looking up as a dark figure emerged from the fog.

Anamaria looked down at him fondly, her dark hair swinging around her face and almost hiding her smile.

"I told you we were walking around in circles."

Jack just glared.

She sat down beside him, looking out at the frothing grey seas.

"Are we to say here forever, Anamaria?" he asked after a while, impatient with the silence.

For a long time she didn't say anything, so long that he'd almost forgotten that spoken. She looked back down at his familiar face and deep brown eyes and whispered something he wasn't sure he was meant to hear.

"I'm not sure that I'd mind staying here forever."

x

Okay, I'll admit that whole 'Will you marry me?' bit was so totally copied from the trailer. But I like that bit in the trailer and I thought it fitted.


	11. Ten Seconds

_Chapter Eleven - Ten Seconds_

_x Reads best with lots of dramatic music in the background, lol! x _

_Ten seconds is a long time and ten seconds of silence is even longer. In the space of ten seconds, a baby can take it's first breath, your lover could leave you forever with cold death in their eyes, enough blood could pump out of your body for you to die. Life defining moments happen in ten seconds. But the ten seconds before my world dropped away were like centuries. _

_I could have counted every single one of his eyelashes. They were so long that sometimes I wondered why they didn't tangle when he blinked. The tension was running up my arm, pulsing at my wrist, where his familiar hand was clenched. I didn't understand what was happening, but that wasn't to say I wanted him to stop looking at me like I was his world. Looking at me in that way that makes my breath catch in my throat and blush like a girl. _

_The world seemed to blur around us, blues fading into grey, sun fading into the palest indifference. I didn't breathe, I didn't move. For the last ten seconds with him I didn't do anything but wait. _

_The warm water pooling at my ankles began to rise, swelling unnaturally. I looked down but it was too late and I could feel the power of the current dragging me down. They say the power of the Ocean exceeds all other powers and this time I thought them all right. All those long lost Pirates and Sailors and Navalmen united in that strange combination of love and fear that they feel for the sea. _

_But then people also say that love conquers all. _

_How wrong could everyone have been?_

_I can shut my eyes in this watery prison of mine and see those black eyes watching me with that oddly tense look that I'd never seen before. Never seen before those ten seconds that I wish I could have again. _

_I look up from where I am pressed to the ocean floor by the weight of thousand of tonnes of water and imagine that the glimmer of light that I see in the swirling blackness above is surface. And at the surface is Jack. _

_Is this love? _

_If this ain't love then I don't know what is._

x

Elizabeth sat bolt upright, her chest heaving and tears trickling out of the corners of her eyes. Tears dripped slowly off the end of her nose as she established that she was still in the cabin with Will's warm presence still pressed against her side.

She could still feel the pressure of the sea weighing down her chest; she could still feel that unfulfilled want for the man who may have cared, she could still feel the hand on her wrist, the black gaze fixed on her own.

"Elizabeth?!" Will sat up beside her and grabbed her arm and turned her huge frightened eyes to face him. "What's wrong, what happened?"

She was sobbing so hard that she couldn't talk, her chest heaving as if she had run miles. The bittersweet ache of love found and lost was like a physical presence sitting on her heart and inhibiting her breathing.

Will pulled her closer, strong brown arms encircling her and holding on so she would fall apart.

When the dream had faded she looked up and apologised profusely for waking him.

"How's your back?" she asked, avoiding his inquisitive frown.

"er - I'm fine," he replied, obviously restraining himself from asking about her nightmare.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and poked his shoulder lightly. When he winced she raised an eyebrow questioningly and he laughed.

"Sore, a bit," he admitted and turned away to find his shirt and shoes. Elizabeth traced the scars with her finger, smiling a little as he shivered. But her mind was far away. Who had been the girl from the dream? There was a faint familiarity about her that was itching at the back of her mind. Shaking her head she decided to worry about later.

Leaning her head against Will's bare brown shoulder, she smiled against his scars mischievously.

"I love you," she whispered, enjoying the way his skin felt under her lips. He went very still for a moment and then got up and pulled his shirt over his head.

"Fine," Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her new fiancé and curled back under the covers. "Don't wake me up before midday."

Will thought Elizabeth looked very cute with only her morning shock of gold curls, cute little nose and dark eyes peeking out from the tangle of sheets. He grinned, ruffled her hair, ignoring her muffled protests and left the cabin.

It was bitterly cold outside and the crew was gathered in little groups across the deck, carrying hot mugs of spirits or huddling into their jackets. Will spotted Norrington and Barbossa standing at the helm and strode over, hunching his shoulders and stuffing his hands into his pockets against the cold.

Barbossa turned his grey-blue eyes up to the billowing dark clouds and felt the first flake of snow touch his cheek.

"Nearly there," he said, half to the world in general and half to the imbecilic ex-commodore.

"Nearly where?" Norrington asked warily, standing a little way away from the obviously mad pirate and hardly noticing at Turner come up beside him.

Barbossa gave the poor man an evil yellow smile and turned to Will. Neither Norrington nor Barbossa couldn't help but notice that 'I've-just-been-shagged-and-I-want-the-world-to-know-how-happy-I-am' look he had all over his face.

Tia's innocent little boy is no longer so innocent, Barbossa thought with some amusement. Norrington just sighed. Will ignored the altogether strange behaviour and turned to Barbossa.

"How long until it's time?"

Barbossa looked around at the bleak gray landscape and tasted the softly falling snow.

Then he turned his cold gaze to Will's brown one.

"Not long."

x

The Lord of the Dead flickered like a badly tuned TV and appeared on a long stretch of beach. The wind was whipping quickly around the bleak hills of sand and the Lord took that to mean that his sister, or rather his other half, was not happy.

He ran his hand once through his devastatingly good looking dark hair and spotted a figure through the lowering clouds of fog.

Within a second he was there.

A man, not his sister, was staring down at the water with a pained expression on his face. Lord Death wouldn't have lingered, except for the fact that something in his divinely powered mind told him that this wasn't a normal man.

"Sparrow."

"Captain Sparrow," Jack replied automatically, with none of his normal enthusiasm.

"Every man is equal in death." Lord Death replied with no trace of amusement in his eyes. Jack looked into his eyes and looked away very quickly. There was nothing in his eyes. Just a nauseating blank blackness that seemed to stretch forever into the caverns of this inhuman mind.

"Your point?" Jack asked, leaning away from the strange man-thing.

"Never mind, have you seen my sister?"

"Evil looking blonde wench?"

"That's the one," Lord Death agreed, liking this man quite a lot.

"She went that way," he pointed down into the unusually flat stretch of water that he had been gazing into before.

Lord Death flickered and with a faint ghost of a smile playing around his lips was gone as quickly as he had come.

x

Lady Death was fuming. If there was anything she despised more than humans in general, it was love. Love was powerful and any power that did not belong to Lady Death, Lady Death loathed.

The girl was still not talking, not screaming, not giving off any feeling except a numb sort of indifference. Lady Death would have almost preferred defiance. Her eyes, like bottomless pools of inky blackness, bored into Anamaria's. The rags of gold silk from the dress floated around her skeletal frame like a glowing aura, fuzzy in Anamaria's tired eyes.

Just as the fingernails of Death closed around her throat, another being appeared in Anamaria's prison.

"Let her go."

A tall man stood to the side in a bored fashion, not even looking at his sister and crossing his arms over his chest.

"No," the woman snarled, baring her teeth and leaning closer to Anamaria. Inhuman strength began to crush her neck and the world was getting fuzzy as the pain was almost unbearable…

"Now," the man demanded, still looking indifferent to Anamaria's fate. It was a pity death didn't prevent you from having pain. Pain was racing down her limbs, making her twitch and clench her muscles. The woman took a deep breath and just as Anamaria thought she was going to go mad or die again or something, the hand slithered away as quickly as it had come.

"What?" the woman said pulling the currents around her so they tweaked at her dusty coloured curls and billowed her dress impressively. "Why do you plague me?"

"You don't have the power to restrain the freedom of the dead," the man thundered, his eyes alight with fury as he took in his sister's defiant pose.

"Once dead, the humans are under my rule," the woman said idly, black lashes brushing in dark crescents across her eerily pale cheeks. "How dare you intrude into my territory, brother, this woman is mine."

"You may imprison a soul, but never punish," he snapped and smirked as her lowered brows confirmed that she knew he was right.

The currents began whipping around in fury, reflecting the sheer rage in the ageless creature's face. Then suddenly there was calm. Anamaria watched the suddenly still face, terror rising within her slender frame. With a slightly tentative expression, the man too seemed to have realised that the calm was far more scary than the open rage.

"But I have the power to grant life," the woman smiled and the man opened his mouth.

Anamaria saw no more.

The invisible chains around her bound form disappeared and Anamaria felt herself being dragged upwards, towards the sliver of light far up beyond the tunnel of blackness. Just before consciousness left her entirely, Anamaria heard a faint but chilling whisper follow her along the tunnel.

"And I may not be able to punish the dead, but I can certainly punish the living."

The laugher went on and on and she began to fall towards the surface.

"Do you want to come and play?" the woman's voice whispered in her ear and Anamaria screamed.

Anamaria screamed and the laughter just kept on laughing.

x

"I'm cold," Raggeti whined. "why do I have to be cold?

Pintel smacked him on the back of the head.

"Shuddup."

"But I'm still cold -" Raggeti cut off quickly as Pintel smacked him again.

"It's part of the master plan," Pintel said, tapping his nose. "Right, Mr Barbossa?"

"Right," Barbossa replied absentmindedly.

"See, me and Mr Captain here," Pintel nudged Raggeti, "we're like this," he crossed his fingers and waved them in Raggeti's face. "Just like this."

Barbossa looked up from the map and began paying attention.

"Shut up," he snapped and rolled his eyes, turning away from them.

"Yeah, shut up!" Pintel snapped suddenly, smacking Ragetti the side of the head and making his fake eye roll in utterly the wrong direction. "Stop being so rude."

x

The dark was coming and despite Barbossa's cool demeanour, he was rather worried.

It just didn't do to be in this place after dark.

It was after dark when Elizabeth woke up from her thankfully dreamless sleep. The silence hit her first, silence like she'd never heard before. Silence like even the world was holding its breath.

The cabin door creaked as she hesitantly pushed it open and she jumped at the little sound, her heart racing painfully. Grabbing the lantern from its hook, she put one hand on the sword and one hand on the lantern and emerged into the darkness.

Eyes peered at her. Elizabeth shuddered and tried to dismiss the gleaming dots in the dark to her overactive imagination. But they were all too real. Her footsteps echoed and her breathing sounded like thunder to her ears.

The lantern only hindered her night vision in this situation, but Elizabeth was too scared to move, let alone extinguish the lantern. The night was pitch black, strange because there was normally one or two lanterns left alight for this very reason. No one wants to be stranded in the dark.

Something skittered across the deck in front of her hesitant feet and Elizabeth bit her lip so hard it bled in her effort not to scream. Panicking slightly, Elizabeth span around feeling the eyes on her but not seeing the people. Her sword got stuck in her effort to get it out. The lantern fell out of her hand as she felt something wrap around her ankle. Flames exploded from the broken lantern. The faint light of the sudden fire dispelled the darkness for a single moment and Elizabeth saw enough to turn the bravest man into a gibbering ball on the floor.

She took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her voice.

Inside Tia's cabin, the crew huddled fearfully. Barbossa was standing in front of the door, one hand on Will's shoulder holding him back.

"You can't go out there, boy, better people than you have been driven mad by what lies behind this door."

Will leaned against the desk, his knuckles white on his sword and his mouth pressed in a tight line. A scream tore the night, a scream that seemed to go on and on. Will grabbed hold of Barbossa's jacket and all but flung him out of the way. The door was next, almost off it's hinges and onto the floor in Will's haste.

Even the unnatural inky darkness didn't deter the man as he grabbed a lantern and blundered out into the foggy blackness in search of Elizabeth.

"Bugger," Cerys swore, her eyes straining in the dark. She stood closest to the door, her hand stretched out to touch the dark as if it was physical thing. She took a deep breath and blazing light lit up the cabin. Barbossa blinked away his sudden blindness and realised that it was Cerys who was glowing like she was on fire.

"Come on," she drew her sword and followed closely by Tia, Cotton and Gibbs vanished into the dark.

Barbossa took one look at Pintel and Ragetti, who were huddled under the table and sighed.

It seemed that they were going to have to face the dark.

x


End file.
